Between the Shadow and the Soul
by Isarnicole
Summary: Post-Mockingjay. Peeta POV. "The sky is a canvas of dark purples, burning reds and soft oranges as I step off the train. The sun is just beginning to drop behind the trees. I take a deep breath and inhale the woodsy, dusty, charred scent. I am home." - Peeta returns home hoping to pick up the pieces of his broken life. Can Katniss help him put the pieces back together?
1. Chapter 1

****Author's Note****

 **This story has been sitting on my desktop for at least two years. I have just never gotten the nerve to post it after reading so many fantastic HG/Everlark stories on here...besides there are about a million and one post-Mockingjay stories and I didn't know if I had a voice or story to add.**

 **I'm particularly fond of stories in Peeta's POV and I feel like I relate to his character, so this will be his story to tell.**

 **The title comes from the famous poem "Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda."**

 **Please be aware going in that this story will have harsh language, references to abuse and torture and sexy-fun Everlark goodness. It's rated M for all of that, so if it bothers you, please don't read :)**

 **All mistakes are my own.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

The sky is a canvas of dark purples, burning reds and soft oranges as I step off the train. The sun is just beginning to drop behind the trees. I take a deep breath and inhale the woodsy, dusty, charred scent.

I am home.

I sling my small bag over my shoulder and keep my eyes trained to the ground as I walk quickly through the charred remains of town. Luckily, what little population Twelve has left have mostly gone home for the evening and I am able to slip through unnoticed. My heartbeat speeds up and I can't hear anything other than the rushing of blood in my ears as I practically run past the street where the bakery used to stand.

Tears prick my eyes and I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding once I exit out the other side of town. Crouching down to the ground and laying my palms flat on the cool, dewy grass, I take a few minutes to gather myself. I can't have an episode here and it takes everything I have in that moment to keep the monsters at bay.

By the time I reach the iron arch of Victors Village the sun has set and the night sky is alive with stars. It is too picturesque. The two perfect rows of homes against the backdrop of the night sky. It is almost like a war never happened.

Fucking Snow.

That evil bastard.

Leaving this area untouched while the rest of the district burned to the ground. He wanted us to feel the remnants of his power over us for as long as possible. He wanted me to feel the full weight of responsibility for what I've done.

And, I do. I'll blame myself. Always.

My body is shaking with rage and my desperate need to appear as calm as possible as I walk to my house. I chance a look at Katniss' home. I see a low light coming from the living room window and smoke curling from her chimney, but no movement inside. I can feel my body urging me to continue down the path to her front door, but my brain and heart stop me short. A low whistle grabs my attention.

"So you finally decided to bust out of the nuthouse and grace us with your presence, huh, boy?"

Haymitch. Of course.

He would be just starting his day around this time. I stop short and spot his shadowy frame leaning against the railing of his front porch.

"Come here and let me look at you. It's been awhile and I've forgotten what you look like when you're not crazy."

I can't help the chuckle that escapes my lips. "I think we are all going to be a little crazy from here on out, Haymitch."

"Well, that's probably true," he says wistfully.

I make my way to his front porch trying my best to keep the tremors in my body to a minimum, but it only takes a second for Haymitch to notice that something is wrong.

"Shit, kid. If I'd known you were coming home today I could've met you at the train and …"

The rest of his sentence is lost to me as I feel my mind tumbling into the darkness that I've worked so hard to crawl out of. Suddenly, I'm in a dark, empty space and I can hear the familiar sound of high heel shoes walking towards me. Instinctively, I hunch my shoulders and lower my head. I know a slap is coming or worse – a blow to the back with a rolling pin – my mother was never lenient when doling out punishment.

Somewhere in a further part of my mind I know this isn't real. That I'm locked in a nightmare and I have to try and fight my way back to reality. I can even hear Haymitch's voice in a far off distance and feel the warmth of his hands on my face, but then the blow to the back of my head happens and I turn on my heel and come face to face with my mother. But, she isn't exactly my mother. Her eyes are black and her teeth are pointed into fangs. Her fingernails are curled into sharp talons. She wields a rolling pin in her right hand.

"You stupid, bastard", she hisses. Then she inches closer to my face and I can smell the foulness of her mutt breath. "You know you were a mistake, right? We never wanted you. Never loved you. You are nothing but a filthy fucking mutt. You are a monster who doesn't deserve to live."

The rolling pin comes down hard on my shoulder and I cry out in pain. As she continues to hit me again and again, I swing my fists in an attempt to fight her off but it's no use. This version of my mother is relentless and nothing I do can make her stop. I curl into a ball on the floor of this dark, empty space and continue to let her beat me until there is nothing left.

* * *

I wake with a start and quickly sit up trying to figure out where I am. The moon is still high in the sky. I am covered in an old quilt and lying near a fireplace. As I scan the room I realize that I am inside Haymitch's living room. I lay back down with a groan as the memory of what happened comes back to me.

Bringing my hands to my face, I push my palms into my eyes until I see stars and let out an exasperated sigh. My body feels like I was hit with a hovercraft.

"Well, that was something else, boy," I hear Haymitch grumble behind me. "I would have taken a hug or a handshake to let me know you were glad to be home, but a full blown blackout and a punch to the eye works too."

I immediately sit up and turn to look at him. He is sitting in his favorite chair, leg slung over the arm and a flask in his hand. I can see the left side of his face is red and swollen.

"Haymitch, I am so sorry."

I curl my legs to my chest and lay my forehead against my knees. I can't help the moisture that gathers in my eyes as I try desperately not to cry. But, the tears start to fall before I have a chance to stop them. I hear Haymitch swear under his breath and feel his hand on my back.

"I've been through much worse than a black eye. I think I'll live. There's no need for the waterworks on my behalf."

I know he's trying to make a joke of the situation and I appreciate that, but the tears always seem to fall after an episode. I can't help it. Dr. Aurelius says it's my body's way of coping with the emotional trauma associated with the episode and everything else I've been through. I think it's my way of dealing with all of the negative words I hear while I'm in that dark place.

I hastily wipe my tears on my sleeve and look at Haymitch. The concern in his eyes is evident and he looks much more sober than I know he likes to be.

"I really am sorry," I say softly. "What happened?"

He lets out a sad sigh, takes a long drink from the flask in his hand and runs his free hand through his greasy hair. "It was like you were there one minute and then you weren't. I saw you walk into the Village and could see your hands shaking and asked you to come over thinking if I talked to you for a bit you would calm down. I figured that walk through town had to be miserable for you, but damn, I didn't think you would lose your marbles on my front steps."

"Nothing like that has happened in a long time," I whisper more to myself than to him. "Did I hit you?"

I couldn't take the thought of having an episode that resulting in violence again. They were bad enough just playing out in my head.

"Nah, you didn't really hit me as much as I got in the way. You walked up to my porch and just stopped. Your eyes went blank and the shaking got worse. I put my hands on your face to try and snap you out of it, but it was no use. Then, you collapsed right there on the top step and started flailing around when I grabbed you to pull you inside and my face kind of got in the way. But, like I said, I've had worse. It'll heal in a day or two."

I turn my face to the fire and watch the flames dance and burn. Haymitch and I sit in comfortable silence for several moments before I ask about her.

"How is Katniss?"

He lets out a low laugh that sounds half exhausted and half sad. "We're all a little crazy. Isn't that what you said?"

"I'm crazy. She is broken."

"You're both broken."

I turn to look at him then and can see the worry he carries evident on his face for a split second before the mask of indifference he tries to always wear comes back again.

"She hasn't left the couch in two months," he says shaking his head. "Sae and I do our best to shove food and water down her throat, but she has dug herself really deep into it this time."

I don't know how to respond. I feel sad and hopeless and frustrated and guilty all at the same time. I've never wanted to see her hurting. Even in my hijacked mind, there was still a small piece that clung to the feelings I have for Katniss Everdeen.

"I think I'm going to go home," I say. "Thank you Haymitch and I'm sorry again."

He waves his hand through the air brushing off my apology mumbling something that sounds like "don't worry about it." I gather up the blanket and make my way through the mess of a living room to the front door dodging empty bottles and pieces of trash along the way. I really have no idea how he got me inside through all of this garbage.

"Peeta."

The use of my name stops me cold. Haymitch never uses my name and instead refers to me as "kid" or "boy" or some other expletive he thinks is funny. I turn to see him standing behind me and we awkwardly stare at each other for a few moments before he pulls me in for a hug. It's unexpected and the smell slightly nauseating, but I can't help the sigh of relief that releases from my mouth. Haymitch isn't one to show affection often and this display is his way of confirming that I still have someone that cares about me.

I gather my small bag that is sitting where I dropped it haphazardly on his front porch steps and make my way across the path to my house.

"Hey, boy," I hear Haymitch whisper. I turn to see him leaning against the railing like he was when I first arrived. "The next time you decide to punch me in the face, I'll shove my foot so far up your ass you'll be cleaning my toenails with your teeth."

I climb the steps and enter my house shaking my head to the sound of Haymitch guffawing at his own joke. Even with all the memories and ghosts that will never leave this place, it still felt good to be home.

* * *

My nose is assaulted with the musty smell of a home that has been shut up and unused. Every thing is covered is a light layer of dust. I look around and sigh, then drop my bag at the front door and wander into the kitchen. The clock on the wall reads 4am and I know there is no chance I'll be going back to sleep tonight.

I decide to light a fire and get to work cleaning the dust from the all of the surfaces. I remind myself to make sure I pick up supplies so that I can bake a few loaves of the dense nut bread that I know Haymitch likes.

Once the house is clean, I walk up the stairs to visit my study. I miss my canvases, brushes and paints. While they allowed me to sketch in the hospital, it was with a charcoal pencil and I desperately wished to use colors.

I run my hand over the stacks of finished paintings leaning against the back wall and turn my attention to the large covered canvas sitting on the easel in the middle of the room. It was what I was working on before the second reaping – before everything changed forever. My fingers tremble slightly as I grasp the edge of the sheet and pull it free from the canvas.

I see my father's strong hands kneading a large lump of dough on the long butcher block countertop that ran the length of the kitchen in the back of the bakery. The perspective of the painting is only of the front of his body from the shoulders down. His forearms are coated in a dusting of flour and his hands have bits of wet dough stuck to them. His fingers are buried in the dough he is working and I can see the tendons in his hands and arms flexed in the effort. The white apron he is wearing has smudges of red, purple, green and yellow frosting across the front. In this memory he must have been working on a cake, cupcakes or cookies. Maybe all three.

I lost bits and pieces of so many memories in the hijacking that I can't place this exact one when I look at the painting now and that fact makes my heart feel like it's shattering in my chest. For all of his flaws, I loved this man so completely. He was kind and gentle and charming. I remember his strong hands soothing away my tears as a child after run ins with my mother's vengeance and his steady voice teaching me about patience, humility and quiet strength as I got older. While all of his sons had his blonde hair, I inherited his blue eyes. I see him sometimes when I look in the mirror and it startles me so much that I try to avoid mirrors if I'm able.

I feel the teardrops hitting my hands before I realize that I'm crying. With a deep breath I throw the sheet over the painting again. I know I have to finish it – and I will – but I can't bring myself to do it now. I move to the east facing window and see that the sun is starting to rise, bringing with it the soft yellow light of a new day.

I grab a nearby sketchbook and some pastels and make my way out to my front porch. Sitting on the steps, I begin to sketch with color for the first time in what seems like ages and it has a remarkable effect on my spirit. I feel instantly lighter, especially after the trauma of the night before. I'm just putting the finishing touches on my interpretation of the morning sky when I see Sae slowly making her way up the path towards Katniss' house.

I abandon the sketchbook and pastels on my porch and quickly make my way over to her. I want to ask her about getting food and supplies and I also want to know more about Katniss and her wellbeing.

"Good morning, Sae."

"Peeta! Oh my…when…I'm so happy that you are home."

She pulls me into a grandmotherly embrace and then puts both her hands on the sides of my face pulling me down until my eyes are level with hers.

"Oh, sweet boy. You have been missed. You really have."

I watch her examine my face and with a knowing look in her eyes. She gently swipes her thumbs across my cheeks and reaches up to plant a kiss to the crown of my head.

"How is she, Sae?" I ask gesturing to Katniss' front door.

"She is taking things very hard as you can imagine. She spends most of the time on the couch. I visit her twice a day. I'm heading there now to fix her some breakfast. Would you like something to eat?"

"Oh…um…not today. I don't think that is a good idea right now."

She nods in understanding and grabs my hand giving it a light squeeze.

"Not yet, Peeta, but one day soon I hope you will join us for breakfast."

"I hope so too."

We talk for a few more minutes about purchasing supplies. She tells me that she will have basic supplies delivered to me a little later today and instructs me on how to order anything more I may need for later letting me know that can also be delivered to my doorstep if I'm not quite up to going into town. I graciously thank her with another hug and a kiss on the cheek.

I don't think another trip into town is something I'm ready for just yet.

I watch her disappear into the house. I linger by the porch for a few moments not quite sure what to do with myself. I'm not ready to go back home. It's too lonely just sitting by myself and I feel like I have too much pent up energy to go sleep, so I start walking around the perimeter of Victors Village.

I pass through the backyard of one of the empty houses towards the fence that still stands separating us from the woods. It's no longer electrified and we are free to come and go as we choose; however, part of me still hesitates as I walk along slowly dragging my fingertips across the spaces in the chain link. I find an opening not far outside the edge of the last empty house and slip through.

This was always Katniss' domain and the expanse of trees feels foreign to me but I still enjoy the freedom of it. It's quiet and peaceful. A light breeze moves through the trees rustling the leaves and blowing some unruly curls across my forehead. As I bring my hand up to brush the hair from my face I spot them; a small cluster of Evening Primrose bushes with their bright yellow petals shining in the sunlight.

I'm struck with the perfection of them growing wild here in the woods – Katniss' woods – like it was absolutely meant to be.

Immediately, I have an idea. I turn towards the Village, running as fast as my damned bum leg will carry me to my backyard. I tear open the door to the small garden shed attached to the back of my house and pull out a wheelbarrow and a shovel. I work as quickly as I can, spurred on by the idea that has taken root in my head.

Once I have the bushes carefully dug up and in my wheelbarrow, I head towards Katniss' house. The sun has fully risen by this time so I know that she will no longer be sleeping – or at least I hope she won't – because I don't want to run the risk of waking her from any possible restful sleep she may be getting.

I push the wheelbarrow to the east side of her house so the bushes will be bathed in the morning sunlight and I begin to dig. It's hard, arduous work and soon I have all but one bush planted. I brush my dirt covered hands across the front of my pants and wipe the sweat off my brow with my forearm. It's hot and I want to take off my shirt, but I'm still too self conscious of my scars to do so. Instead, I decide to lean up against the porch railing in the bit of shade created by the overhang of the roof and that's when I hear the audible gasp behind me.

I spin on my heels and see her stormy eyes staring at me. She's too thin and pale. Her hair is matted, shorter than usual and slightly fringed on the ends from being burned. She's barefoot. Her hands struggling to cover the burn scars on her arms that she is equally as self conscious about as I am. She continues to stare for several more moments, her mouth opening and closing like she is trying to find the words to say.

"You're back."

I'm too dumbstruck to form any words that normally come so easily to me so I just bob my head up and down in agreement. I watch her eyes move from the top of my head to my feet and back again drinking me in. My heartbeat speeds up. I try to hide my shaking hands by shoving them in my pockets.

"Dr. Aurelius wouldn't let me leave the Capitol until yesterday. By the way, he said to tell you he can't keep pretending he's treating you forever. You have to pick up the phone."

I watch Katniss as she tries to brush some of the hair away from her face and straighten the clothes that have become too big for her shrinking frame. Sadness clouds her features. She looks from me to the bushes and back again.

"What are you doing?"

"I went to the woods this morning and dug these up. For her…I thought we could plant them along the side of the house."

I see the recognition of exactly what kind of bushes I am planting dawn on her. She looks at me with glassy eyes. Her bottom lip trembling slightly and I know she is trying not to cry. She quickly nods her head and runs back into the house. Just as I'm about to call out to her, I hear the resounding click of the door lock.

I turn and slump against the railing letting my back slide down the surface until I'm sitting on dewy grass. Turning to look at the already planted bushes I groan and reach my good leg out to kick the wheelbarrow over in frustration watching the last remaining bush tumble to the ground. Seeing it lie there with its pretty yellow petals covered in dirt makes me think of her small body lying in the debris after the bombs exploded.

Prim.

I grab handfuls of my hair and pull trying to root myself in this place. In reality. I can't let the images floating in my mind to allow me to go someplace else.

Fuck.

Get it together Mellark.

I get up. Shame washing over me. I need to finish this for her. For both of them. Picking up the fallen bush I lightly brush the dirt from the flowers and gently place it in the hole I had already dug. Collecting as much of the loose soil from the grass around the wheelbarrow as I can, I bury the bushes roots patting the fresh ground around it for good measure.

As I'm gathering my supplies and heading back to my house I hear Katniss' upstairs bedroom windows being thrown open, the pale green curtains being pulled out in the breeze.

I start pushing my wheelbarrow across the path to my backyard and see Haymitch stumble out of his front door shielding his eyes from the morning light.

"What the hell is all of the noise about!? I finally close my eyes and then I hear slamming and banging…"

His sentence cuts off as he looks from me to the bushes to the open windows on the second floor of Katniss' house. His eyes come back to me and I swear I can see the slightest hint of a smile form on his lips. It is quickly replaced with his signature scowl as he turns and goes back inside without another word.

As I round the back of my house, I let the wheelbarrow fall on its side throwing the shovel on top it. I wince at the loud clang it makes as it hits the side of the wheelbarrow and falls to the ground. There are too many thoughts circling my head and I pace back and forth in my backyard trying to sort them all out.

* * *

I don't know how much time has passed, but I'm sure I look like a lunatic pacing around muttering to myself. Clothes and skin covered in dirt. Hair sweaty and standing on end. Taking a deep breath, I decide what I really need is a bath, tea and sleep – nightmare free sleep if at all possible.

As I'm gathering the art supplies I abandoned on my front porch I see her. She's bathed and dressed in clean clothes. Her shoulders are squared and her spine is ramrod straight with determination. Her bow and quiver slung across the back of the old leather jacket she is wearing. Her hair in the signature braid across her shoulder. The sight steals my breath.

This is Katniss.

The old Katniss.

My Katniss.

I thought they said she hadn't moved in two months?

I watch her make her way out of the Village heading towards the meadow. She's heading to the woods and taking the way she always did. My heart aches because I don't know if she's seen town yet, or the Seam or what used to be the meadow.

I remind myself to let her know about the fence opening I used earlier – if she'll speak to me again – so she can avoid the death and destruction of town and the graveyard meadow that used to be so beautiful.

Across the street, Sae shuffles onto the porch. There is a slight smile ghosting across her lips.

"She's gone hunting," she says as she makes her way to the end of the porch to glance at the bushes I planted. She nods approvingly and begins to make her way over to me. "Come to breakfast tomorrow, Peeta. Bring bread. Supplies will be waiting for you shortly."

I can't help but smile at the request. "Of course. But, do you think she'll…"

Sae stops me with the wave of her hand.

"Sweet boy, this is the first time she's moved in months. The first time she's spoken to me in just as many. I don't think she'll mind you coming for breakfast at all."

I sigh looking back down the path towards her exit, but she is no longer visible.

"Ok. If you think it will be fine, then I would love to join you for breakfast."

"Oh, it will be more than fine child…more than fine."

I turn to go inside when I hear her clear her throat.

"But, Peeta…take a bath first."

She cackles softly to herself as she turns and heads back towards town leaving me standing in my open doorway with the most genuine smile I've worn in what feels like years.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to everyone who has followed, favorited or reviewed! It blows my mind to think that people might be reading and enjoying this :)**

 **All mistakes are my own.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

The first thing I feel is the pain radiating down the left side of my neck into my shoulder. I shift in my seat and gently roll my head from side to side. I fell asleep sitting up in a padded chair by the fireplace. I couldn't bring myself to go up to my bed last night. The bed seemed too big, too cold and unused and filled with too many haunted memories of times gone by.

After I left Sae yesterday morning, I bathed and laid on the couch in my study staring blankly at a painting of dandelions and wildflowers in the meadow. I had painted them before the second games. The scene seemed so unreal and yet so close I could still smell the fragrant air and feel the grass slip through my fingertips. At some point in my staring, my eyes drifted closed and I entered a – thankfully – dreamless sleep.

I spent the rest of the day utterly unaware of what to do with myself. In Thirteen and in the hospital, my days were scheduled down to the minute and now my old routines and habits seem so out of place. I drifted from one side of the house to the other straightening things that weren't crooked as I went. I spent a good portion of my time in the kitchen putting away the food and supplies that had been delivered – just as Sae promised they would.

I thought about painting.

No. Not yet.

I sat on my front porch, a cup of tea warming my hands, as the evening sun faded from the sky. I had forgotten how beautiful this place can be, especially in the Spring. When Haymitch came out to begin his evening, I tipped my head in his direction. I was too emotionally drained from the morning and the night before to strike up conversation with him, so I stayed where I was trying desperately to avoid staring at Katniss' front door or the pale green curtains still billowing out from her open bedroom windows. I wondered if she would leave them open when she went to bed that night. If doing that would make her think of me.

I stayed outside well past sunset, watching the fireflies dancing in the dark. The pinch of my prosthetic reminded me that I had been wearing it too long and forced me back into the quiet solitude of my house.

I laid on the couch again, but my thoughts kept drifting to Katniss and her reaction that morning. I tossed and turned trying in vain to keep the nervousness that bubbled inside of me away. Eventually, I pulled one of the ridiculously overstuffed chairs in front of the fire and let the flames help me finally drift off to sleep.

* * *

I arrive at Katniss' front porch holding a fresh loaf of bread and a basket of cheese buns that I had spent the early morning hours obsessively making and remaking until they got as close to perfect as I could manage. Hesitantly, I bring my fist up to the door prepared to knock but then bring it back down to my side. I'm unsure if I should wait for Sae. I don't even know if Katniss is expecting me.

As I'm standing on the porch, nervously shuffling my feet from side to side, the front door bursts open and I'm face to face with two magnificent silver orbs.

"G-good morning," I stammer. "I brought bread. For breakfast. And cheese buns."

She eyes me and my baked goods warily pausing slightly when our gazes connect again. My heart begins to hammer in my chest and an electric current moves down my spine. With her gaze now on the floor, she nods and moves to the side letting me in. I feel awkward and out of place and at home all at the same time. I spent so much time in Katniss' house that it feels more like home than my own house does. Maybe even more than the small apartment over the bakery did.

The bakery. I can feel the fingers of sadness trying to pull me under at just the thought of it. Shit.

I go to the kitchen laying the bread and cheese buns on the table. Instinctively, I move to the cabinets and begin pulling out plates, glasses and flatware before my mind stops me. With my arms full, I look at Katniss and she nods letting me know that I can continue. I can feel her watching me as I set the table. It makes the hair on my arms stand on end and a heat move up my neck and ears. I hope it's not obvious.

"Were you going hunting?" I say trying to break the unbearable silence.

"Yes. No. I don't know," she says shaking her head. "I went yesterday but it was hard. I was going to try again today or maybe just walk. I thought I would be back before Sae got here. I didn't know you were coming over."

I look up from the table guiltily. "Sae invited me. But, if it's not ok…I mean if you aren't ok with it, I can leave."

"No!" She says quickly and a little too forcibly. "No…please stay. You're welcome to stay."

I put my head down and continue to set the table while trying to contain the smile pulling at the edges of my lips. It's at this point that Sae shuffles into the house. She pauses taking in the scene. Me at the table. Katniss still standing near the door, arms wrapped around herself.

"Good morning," Sae says brightly.

"G'morning," Katniss mumbles in return.

"Good morning," I say.

"Peeta, I'm so happy that you could join us. Katniss and I could most definitely use the company in the mornings," Sae says while looking between both of us once more, giving me a wink and heading into the kitchen.

Sae makes us eggs and bacon which we eat with my bread. We keep the conversation light, talking about the weather and Sae's granddaughter. I watch Katniss feed all of her bacon to Buttercup and try to hide her enthusiasm over the cheese buns – although she eats all but one. Watching her indulge in something I made just for her fills me with an indescribable happiness and I can tell that Sae is pleased she is eating again too.

Once we are finished, I jump up to clear the table and begin the dishes. I need something to do with my hands because they've started to shake again and I can feel the knot of tension building at the base of my neck. Sitting at a table, eating, talking and laughing felt so normal and I could feel the guilt starting to creep in even as I kept a smile on my face. That guilt and sadness can lead to dark thoughts and places I don't want to go.

I could feel Katniss studying me while we ate. Her eyes concentrating on my face and seeing the twitch in my jaw that can sometimes happen when I feel an episode coming on. I quickly placed my chin on my hand to cover it, but the hard look she was giving me let me know that she saw it.

I begin to wash the dishes and the repetitive motion calms my frayed nerves. When I'm sure no one is watching, I close my eyes and grip the sink taking deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth like Dr. Aurelius advised me to do. Just another coping and calming exercise among the many I he taught me.

With my eyes still closed and fingers still firmly gripping the porcelain base, I feel a shirtsleeve lightly brush against my arm and I open my eyes to find Katniss beside me drying the dishes and placing them in the rack beside the sink. Our gazes lock and I can see all of the concern and questions in her eyes. I look away, drying my hands on a dishtowel and picking invisible lint from the hem of my shirt.

"Are you going hunting today Katniss?" I hear Sae ask, breaking the preoccupation I have with my shirt. "I know it's a little warm, but I would love a good bowl of squirrel stew at dinner."

Katniss glances quickly to me and then turns to Sae. "Um...I was thinking about going fishing today."

"Today would be the perfect day for fresh fish," Sae agrees.

"P-Peeta, would you like to go fishing with me?" Katniss asks quietly.

"Of course," I say immediately.

* * *

We make our way through the opening I found near the back of Victors Village the day before and I try desperately to keep up with Katniss' light and confident footsteps. I've never been the most graceful person at my best, but with this prosthetic I'm even more of a tragedy when it comes to stealth and grace. After about 30 minutes of walking, as I feel small beads of sweat forming on my neck and brow, I start to feel the familiarity of being in this situation with Katniss.

"We've done this before. Real or not real?" I ask.

Her step falters and she turns to look at me. I can see the surprise of my question written on her face and I watch as she tilts her head ever so slightly as if she is weighing her answer.

"I've never been walking with you in these woods, but we did walk like this through the jungle in the second games and through the forest in the first," she says.

"Hm. This feels so familiar – these woods with you – I could've sworn it was something we did before that I just didn't remember."

She simply shakes her head at this and continues walking but I catch her sidelong glances at me as I struggle to keep up with her pace. Finally, she stops just inside a tree line that leads to a sloping hill with tall grass. I watch her close her eyes and take a deep breath.

"This is my secret place," she says. "My father showed it to me. It's where he taught me to swim. It's where he foraged for my namesake. I've never been here with anyone else before today."

When she opens her eyes again and looks at me, I can see them pleading with me to understand the importance of what we are doing.

"Why me?" I ask.

"Because you came home," she says simply and then turns to walk through the trees into the clearing.

I stand there stunned for a moment. When I was in the Capitol hospital dreaming of returning home, I thought about maybe being able to regain the friendship I once had with Katniss before the Games, love and war tore us apart. I didn't think past that because I didn't even know if friendship would be an option. The last time I saw her she was committing treasonous murder with plans to kill herself and I had stopped her from ending her life. The fact that she wants to share this place with me is amazing.

I step through the trees and immediately wish I had my sketchbook. There is water for miles. The high grass slopes gently from the tree line meeting tall reeds at the bank of the water. Steam is rising off the lake in the distance as the morning sun warms it. The tall pines on the opposite bank are reflected in the blue stillness making it seem like two worlds converging together. It is breathtaking.

I spy Katniss' shoes laying near the edge of the woods and then see her standing on a large flat rock jutting out into the lake. I reach down to remove my shoes and then hesitate. Even though she's seen my prosthetic, I'm still not completely confident in showing it off and I'm not entirely sure about what kind of traction I would have with it on the smooth service of the stone. But, I'm also desperate to know what the grass, mud and stone feel like between my toes.

I decide to join her with just one shoe on. She looks down at my feet when I arrive beside her and I can see the corner of her mouth start to turn up in the slightest smile before her eyes meet mine. All I can do is hold out my hands and shrug which makes her laugh. She quickly catches herself and schools her features again as if she's not allowed to laugh, but I swear it felt like my heart stopped at the sound. I haven't heard it in so long.

"I miss that sound," I say before I can stop myself.

She doesn't respond. I watch her hands fidget with the hem of her shirt before she reaches for a fishing pole and shoves it in my hands. We then spend the rest of the morning fishing – well, Katniss fishes and I try desperately not to make a complete ass out of myself. I had read about fishing and seen it done on some of the Capitol television programs, but I had never actually done it. With some instruction from Katniss, I was able to catch one fish though.

Once we had caught four fish and the midday sun was in the sky, Katniss stored the fish in an underwater net next to the rock to keep them fresh and we sat down to relax and enjoy the sunshine before having to make the long walk back home. I laid back on the warm stone and soon Katniss joined me. I turned to look at her with her eyes closed and face covered in sunlight. She is still the most beautiful girl I have ever seen - more beautiful than I think she knows – even with the scars licking up her neck like flames and the way the Games, war and loss have prematurely started to age her young face.

"Bad nightmares?" I ask gesturing to the dark circles under her eyes that I'm sure match my own.

"Mhm. You too." She states while gently swiping her knuckles across my cheekbone leaving goose bumps in their wake.

I can only sigh in response. I close my eyes and turn my face to the sun wanting nothing more than to pull her to me so that she can lay her head on my chest like she used to. But, I don't move and neither does she.

* * *

I wake up with my cheek pressed against the stone that has now gone cold. How long have I been asleep? I open my eyes and find myself staring at a dimly lit cement wall. I try to scramble to my feet to get my bearings but my prosthetic is gone as well as my clothes.

Where the fuck am I?

That's when I notice the bare floor and walls, the locked bars holding me in. I'm back in the Capitol and Snow has me. Panic begins to rise in my chest. I can't breathe and my heart is racing like I've been running for miles. I shuffle my naked body into a corner of the cell, hugging the knee of my good leg to my chest.

How did I end up here again? What is happening? Did I ever really leave?

I feel my body shivering despite not noticing the chill. My hands absentmindedly running up and down the smooth, cold cement bricks that form the walls of my enclosure as if desperately searching for an exit. Then, the screams start. They are animalistic and guttural like someone crying out in pain who isn't able to form the words needed.

No, no, no, no, no! This can't be happening. Not again. He's dead. I saw him die. I don't want to see this again.

The screams reduce to a whimper and I hear the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor. I throw my hands to my face. I know what is going to happen before it does. Peacekeepers drag Darius' limp, naked body in front of my cell and into my full view. He is covered in bruises. His face is so bloated and distorted that I can't even make out his features anymore. He is missing both eyes, multiple fingers and one of his legs. The Peacekeepers flip him onto his back and pin him down. They lay both of his arms out away from his body and one Peacekeeper produces a short surgical looking saw. They place the saw on his left arm just above his elbow, pressing down with enough force that I see the blood start to trickle down his black and blue bicep.

"Tell us what you know," a Peacekeeper hisses. "Who is part of the rebellion? Where are they located? What do you know about the Mockingjay?"

Darius just cries out incoherently and then screams when they begin to slowing saw off his arm.

"Stop!" I scream. "Stop, please! He doesn't know anything. He can't speak. Why are you doing this! Hurt me…hurt me instead. Please!"

"Peeta?" I hear Katniss' voice calling for me in the distance.

Katniss? What is she doing here? Do they have her too? This can't be happening!

"Katniss!" I scream over Darius' howls. "Katniss where are you? Katniss, ANSWER ME!"

"Peeta," I hear her say again. "Peeta, not real. It's not real. Wake up. Come back to me, Peeta. Not real."

My eyes fly open to see a pair of silver eyes staring back at me. Her hands are on my face. I break out of her grip and sit up trying to get my bearings. My curls are matted to my head with sweat. My heart is racing and I'm struggling to catch my breath. Katniss is crouched beside me with her hands hovering, but not touching me.

"You were dreaming," she whispers softly like she's speaking to a frightened animal. "It wasn't real."

But it was real. I saw it happen before and my mind decided to let me see it happen again. I feel the moisture clouding my eyes. Shit. I'm going to start crying again. I hang my head in defeat and let the tears fall. Katniss sits back down beside me so that the sides of our bodies are flush together. Her fingers glide over the material covering her knee and twitch unexpectedly when they come in close contact with mine.

I use the sleeve of my shirt to dry my face and run my hands through my damp hair.

"Do…do you want to tell me about it?" She asks.

I can only shake my head. Telling her the details would do neither of us any good. It would just add to the already large library of horror she has available to dream about and, honestly, I don't want her to know the specifics. Darius was her friend.

"Thank you," I sigh.

"For what?"

"For being there when I woke up."

Suddenly, her hand reaches out and grasps mine, our fingers intertwining. I hear her suck in a shaky breath and watch as she swipes the corner of her eyes with her free hand. She stands and then helps me onto trembling legs. Without another word we gather our fish, poles and our shoes and head back into the woods towards home.

* * *

We walk silently hand in hand until we reach the opening in the fence when I reluctantly let go to allow her to slide through the narrow passage. As we reach my front porch, I slow down unsure of whether I should continue to follow her or go home. She hasn't invited me back to her house, but after spending the day with her I find it hard to leave her side. After a few paces, she notices that I am no longer following her and turns around.

"We should probably invite Haymitch for dinner," she says looking at our former mentor passed out on his front porch swing. "There's still bread left over from breakfast that we could use to soak up some of the liquor if he refuses to eat anything else. Would you mind inviting him and bringing him with you if he accepts? I'm going to go in and start cleaning the fish."

She turns and heads across the path to her house, chancing one more look back at me before closing the door. I duck my head and smile while rubbing my hand across the back of my neck.

"What are you so happy about?" I hear Haymitch slur as he stumbles to his feet.

"Would you like to come to dinner? Katniss and I went fishing."

"So, sweetheart has decided to become a contributing part of society again? Well, wonders never cease. Sae and I nearly killed ourselves trying to get her off that couch. Did you pull some lovey-dovey wizardry with those baby blues, boy?"

I roll my eyes and start to walk towards Katniss' front door. "It's free food Haymitch. Take it or leave it."

"I'm coming, I'm coming. Hold on a second before you go in," he says as he grabs my shoulder and turns me to face him. The stench of alcohol on his breath is just about enough to put me off dinner despite the constant grumbling in my stomach.

"It's ok to be happy," he says quietly, his voice sounding surprisingly sober. "It's not easy, but if anyone in the world deserves happiness, it's the both of you."

I feel his hand gently squeeze my shoulder before giving me a light shove.

"What are we doing standing around out here? I thought you said there was free food?"

I watch him transform back into the slurring, staggering, drunken Haymitch as he climbs the steps to Katniss' front door and enters the house, giving me a wink before closing the door behind him.


	3. Chapter 3

**This chapter is a little shorter than the others have been, but I felt like the end was a natural stopping point and a good place to start in the next chapter.**

 **Thank you again to anyone who has taken the time to read, favorite, follow or review!**

 **All mistakes are my own.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

After that first afternoon together, Katniss and I quickly fall into a routine. I bake, she hunts. I arrive at her house every morning for breakfast and stay with her until dinner is finished. We always talk about easy things and avoid talking about anything else. I start to paint again. I decide to leave my father's portrait unfinished. It has more power to me that way, like the unfinished life of everyone who died. I sleep on my couch or in a chair by the fire, still feeling too alone in this big empty house to be able to sleep in my bedroom. Before I even realize it, a month has passed since my return home.

Haymitch, Sae and I begin to plan a small surprise celebration for Katniss' 18th birthday. Sae plans to get the supplies to make Katniss' favorite lamb stew, I plan to make a cake and her favorite cheese buns and Haymitch says he'll bring the liquor. I spend a lot of my sleepless nights trying to decide what I want to give her as a gift. That's how I find myself behind a blank canvas inside my study on nights when the nightmares are frequent or the fear of closing my eyes is just too much.

I wake up on floor of my study on the morning of the 8th with my fingers still stained with paint and a brush in my hand. I had finished her gift just the night before and had laid on the floor to look at it from a distance when exhaustion finally overtook me. The sun is already above the trees when I open my eyes and I hurriedly clean my brushes, shower and change my clothes before making my way to Katniss' for breakfast.

I can feel her eyeing me suspiciously from across the table as we eat our bacon and eggs. I keep my eyes down and try not to fidget in order to not ruin the surprise we have planned for that evening. Once Sae excuses herself stating that she has an early day helping to feed the people working to rebuild the destroyed parts of town, I feel Katniss' small warm hand cover mine, her thumb lightly stroking my knuckles willing me to meet her eyes.

"Are you ok? Peeta, please look at me," she says when I don't respond.

When I look up, her eyes are full of concern, pleading with me to let her know why I'm being unusually quiet.

"You were late and you didn't bake anything today," she continues. "When you didn't show up at your usual time I was worried. I wanted to go and check on you, but I didn't know if you would be ok with that."

"I'm fine!" I blurt out. My nervousness over the impending celebration causing the words to come out more loudly than I intend. She jolts back in her chair and lets go of my hand. "I'm sorry," I say softly. "I didn't mean to yell. I had a late night and overslept. I didn't have time to bake you anything, but I promise to make up for it at dinner." I give her a genuine smile that she returns with a relieved smile of her own.

"I talked to Dr. Aurelius yesterday," she says. The shift is topic causing her posture to take on a more defensive stance. "I told him about how we worked on the plant book together and I thought maybe we could do another book… together…a memory book. He said he would send the supplies."

I want more than anything to tell her yes, but I can't help the trepidation I feel at the thought of dredging up memories of everything and everyone that no longer exist.

"What kind of memory book would it be?" I ask.

"Whatever kind we wanted it to be, I guess. I just don't want to forget them. I don't know anyone else who can capture the sparkling green of Finnick's eyes or the way Cinna's hands looked as he worked his magic on a length of silk. And, no one else would be able to capture Pr…"

She stops herself from completing the sentence and we both sit in silence as our minds fill with the images of everything we have lost.

"Of course I'll help, Katniss," I say with a heavy sigh. "We'll make sure to add every detail we can remember, seal the pages with salt water and keep them, so they will be with us always."

She nods and slumps down in her chair, her gaze focusing on the trees and leaves blowing gracefully in the breeze outside the window. I can tell by the way the corner of her eyes squint and her jaw tenses that there is something more she wants to say, but she only clears her throat and stands.

"I was thinking of going for a walk in the woods," she says. "Do you want to come with me?"

Inwardly, I groan. I would give anything to spend the day in the woods with Katniss. She has such a freedom and lightness when she is amongst the trees and I can't help but to be drawn to her there, but I desperately need to get home and start baking her cake if there is any hope of having one for her birthday celebration tonight.

"I'm sorry. I can't," I manage to spit out in spite of everything in my body telling me to agree.

"Oh," is all she replies before wrapping her arms around herself protectively.

My hand instinctively reaches out to comfort her, but she turns her body away and so I let me hand fall back down to my side.

"Katniss, I really want to but I have something I need to take care of at home. Maybe we can set a date to go back to the lake or just walking in the next few days. Or, tomorrow even."

At the word "date" her head shoots up and her eyes connect with mine. I think I see something spark within them, but she quickly averts her gaze to the door.

"I don't know, Peeta. Maybe."

She reaches for her bow and quiver, leaving the jacket hanging on the hook. The unusually warm weather has made jackets unnecessary even for early May.

"I'll see you for dinner?" She asks turning to look back at me before heading out the door.

"I wouldn't miss it," I reply as I watch her sprint through the fence and into the trees.

* * *

I stand trying to hide behind the curtains of my living room window as I watch Haymitch coaxing Katniss into his house with some excuse meant to occupy her for a few minutes in order for Sae and I to set up for Katniss' birthday surprise. As soon as his door closes, I quickly and carefully pick up the birthday cake I had baked and decorated for Katniss during the day and begin to make my way across the path to her front door. Sae meets me at the door gasping and shaking her head while circling around me to get a full view of the cake.

"Peeta, this is incredible," she says while softly patting me on the back. "She is going to love it."

The cake is a small 3-tier round chocolate creation with white icing. On every tier I've painted a different wooded landscape with edible paints and food coloring adding small woodland creatures made out of sugar to the top of the bottom and middle tiers. On the top tier I've created a small version of Katniss' lake with it's banks filled with reeds and katniss flowers.

I gently deposit the cake on the kitchen counter and leave Sae to complete her lamb stew as I return home to grab my gift for Katniss and the cheese buns for dinner. I had wrapped the gift in dark green paper and added an orange ribbon earlier in the day, but now I stare at it wondering if the bow is too much. I know she'll shake her head at the wrapping, but it's too late to do anything else with it now, so I grab it and hurry back to Katniss' house to store it in one of her empty bedrooms.

Just as I'm re-entering the kitchen from the empty bedroom, I hear Katniss and Haymitch arguing as they walk into the house.

"I don't know why they hell you wanted me to look at your toilet, Haymitch," she seethes through gritted teeth. "That was about the most disgusting bathroom I've ever seen and I'm definitely no plumber!"

"Well, sweetheart, I just assumed you might know a thing or two considering all the time you spent in Thirteen's ventilation shafts among other places," Haymitch counters.

"A ventilation shaft has nothing to do with plumbing at all! That doesn't even make sense. I'm starting to think the liquor has started to mess with your brain, Hay…"

The rest of her thought catches in her throat as she takes in the small amount of decorations, smells the delicious dinner Sae is preparing and sees the cake. Her eyes quickly move between all three of us and her hand comes up to her still open mouth with a small gasp.

"Happy birthday!" Sae and I shout in near perfect unison.

"Happy birthday sweetheart," Haymitch says while giving her braid a playful tug.

Katniss walks all the way into the kitchen with her hand still on her mouth and her head moving back and forth taking everything in. She walks up to the cake and drops her hand. Her mouth closes and her lips press together in a firm line. My heart begins to pound as I watch her inspecting what I had worked so hard to create. It takes her several minutes to say anything and I'm sure that I did something horribly wrong with how I chose to decorate. Finally, she exhales a deep breath and looks up at me. Her eyes are glassy and filled with astonishment, joy and something else I can't quite place.

"Peeta, this is beyond amazing," she whispers.

"It's why I couldn't go walking with you this morning," I say while gently brushing my thumb over her cheek to catch a tear that had began to fall.

Haymitch clears his throat behind me and Katniss and I spring apart. I glance over in time to see Sae giving me a knowing look with a smile on her lips.

"Yes, yes, the cake is pretty, but if you two can stop making eyes at each other for more than 30 seconds then we can eat!" Haymitch bellows.

* * *

The dinner is delicious and Katniss devours two helpings of stew, several cheese buns and a piece of cake. I watch as she leans back in her chair rubbing her full stomach with a genuine smile on her face. Haymitch passes around the liquor which we all take sips from and soon we are laughing so hard I have to hold my stomach to keep from throwing up. The celebration is going just like I hoped it would. We all needed a night of food, friends and laughter.

Before too long, Sae excuses herself wanting to get home before it gets too dark outside while Haymitch gives Katniss a sloppy drunken hug and walks out the door to stumble onto his porch. Katniss and I sit at the table for a few more moments before she gets up and starts clearing the dishes. I stand and reach out my hand to stop her and the electricity and heat in the touch startles us both. She gasps and I look up to see her face only inches away from mine. Fighting the urge to close the space between us, I clear my throat and begin to help her clear the table.

"I can do the dishes," I say. "It's your birthday. You shouldn't have to do dishes on your birthday."

"Just leave them," she says with a smile. "I think they will be fine until morning."

"I think you might be drunk, Ms. Everdeen. The Katniss I know would never leave dirty dishes out overnight."

She looks away conspiratorially with a playful smirk on her lips.

"Maybe a little drunk," she says with a laugh.

In all of the laughter during dinner, several pieces of hair have fallen from her braid to frame her face and as she laughs now a piece falls across her cheek. I can't help myself when I bring my hand up and tuck the strand behind her ear. The action stops her laughter and her eyes grow serious as she looks into mine. I watch her tongue dart out to wet her lips and she takes a step towards me to close the space between us.

"I made you a gift," I blurt out, silently cursing myself for being such a coward.

"A gift?"

Her cheeks become red as she steps away and looks down in embarrassment.

"It's upstairs," I somehow say without stammering while my own face grows hot. "Stay here and I'll go get it."

I grab the gift from the empty upstairs bedroom, taking a moment at the top of the stairs to come to terms with what almost happened in the kitchen and what has been happening between Katniss and me for the last month. I can't deny the invisible tether that links us. I wake up every morning with the urge to be near her and go to bed feeling the same way; however, there is always a part of my brain screaming at me that she doesn't really feel the same way. For too long I was the object of her affection only in front of a camera, so it's hard for me to trust that it's real now.

But, it feels real. Very real.

Katniss is lighting a fire as I make my way down the stairs. She looks up and shakes her head at the large gift in my hands.

"Peeta, the cake was enough. I haven't had a birthday with cake in years. You really didn't have to do anything else."

"I know, but everyone deserves at least one gift on their birthday."

I hand her the gift and just like I thought she would, she gives me a look about the orange bow but removes it carefully anyway. I begin pacing in front of her as she removes the wrapping paper. I'm not entirely sure how this gift is going to be received. For weeks, I struggled with whether or not I should make it and now that she's opening it, my nervousness won't allow me to be still.

"Peeta!" She says breathlessly as the last bit of paper falls to the floor.

I close my eyes waiting for the onslaught of Katniss-fueled fury that I was expecting to come my way, but instead I feel her body slam into me and her slender arms wrap around my neck with so much force I nearly fall backwards. Tentatively, I wrap my arms around her waist and hold her firmly against me. She nuzzles her face into the crook of my neck and I breathe in the scent that is intrinsically Katniss – fresh grass, leaves, honeysuckle and lavender.

We stand in each others embrace for several minutes until I feel her wet cheek against mine and hear her whisper "thank you" into my ear. The feel of her breath causing a longing to pull at my heart and a heat to pool in my belly. She turns out my my arms and grabs my hand pulling me down to the floor in front of the fireplace so we can both view her gift in the fire's light.

I've painted her a memory I have of her from long ago. In the picture, you see a father holding the hand of a small dark haired girl with two braids while he carries a blond haired toddler with pig-tails on his shoulders. They are walking away with their backs to the viewer, but the father and toddler are looking down at the dark haired girl with so much love in their eyes and smiles on their faces. This is a scene I witnessed many times when Katniss' father would pick her up from school. They looked so happy and there was so much love there that I often wished I could grab the man's other hand and walk home with them as well.

Katniss sits silently beside me while lightly brushing her fingertips over the surface of the painting. She wipes stray tears from her cheeks with her free hand as my hand is still firmly in her grasp.

"I remember this," she finally says. "Well, maybe not this exact day, but I remember coming out of school and seeing him and Prim waiting. She was so small and would sit on top of his shoulders in order to be able to spot me above the heads of the other adults waiting. I would look for her blond pig-tails as soon as I came out of the doors. He would hold my hand all the way home listening to me prattle away about my day. We were lucky that he could sit and eat dinner with us before having to go back into the mines.

She leans against me, laying her head on my shoulder. Her tears have stopped but her eyes have not moved from the painting.

"You have no idea what this means to me. It's like I have a part of them here with me now. I had no clue you paid so much attention," she continues finally turning her eyes from the painting and studying my face.

"I watched you going home everyday," I say softly. "I know my father loved me, but the look in your father's eyes when he saw you each day was one of the most incredible things I had ever seen. Then, you would walk away hand-in-hand looking so happy and it was everything that I wished I had. I wanted so badly to be around you even back then. Watching you walk home with Prim and your father is one of my favorite childhood memories. I'm glad it's one that I still have."

"I'm glad too," she says with a heavy sigh.

We continue to sit in companionable silence, hand-in-hand with our backs to the fireplace until I notice Katniss' breathing begin to even out. I look down at her sleeping peacefully against my shoulder and use my free hand to tuck a few more stray pieces of hair behind her ear. I don't want to move and wake her, but I desperately want to remove my prosthetic and my eyelids are heavy with the need to sleep after such an eventful day.

I shake Katniss' shoulder gently and whisper her name. She bolts upright and releases my hand to rub her palms across her face, looking at me sheepishly from between her fingers.

"I should probably go home and let you sleep," I say without moving from my spot on the floor.

Katniss nods her head in agreement. We both remain on the floor for a few more moments before I clear my throat and stand. I'm so torn by my desire to stay and the knowledge that I should leave that I find it difficult to will my legs to move me towards the door. I look down at Katniss who is still sitting in front of the painting. She has brought her knees to her chest and her arms are wrapped around herself as if she is trying to keep herself from falling apart.

"Goodnight Katniss," I say in a voice barely above a whisper.

"G'night," she mumbles in reply, her eyes refusing to meet mine.

I look around me one last time and then move to the door trying to push down the sadness I feel rising in my chest. As my hand touches the doorknob, I turn back to Katniss.

"I'll see you in the morning. I can come by early if you want and help you clean up the kitchen before Sae gets here.

She only nods again and I open the door, but as I go to take a step onto her front porch, I feel her hand grasp my wrist.

"Peeta," she says with a tremble in her voice. "Will you stay with me?"

As the words leave her lips I can feel my heart stop and I'm positive that I've died. I never thought I would hear those words again even though they are the only words I've longed to hear for months. Without hesitation, I answer "always."


	4. Chapter 4

I take Katniss' hand and shut the front door behind me. She grabs the painting and leads me up the stairs. I watch her gently set the painting down against the wall in the hallway and then I follow her to the bedroom at the end of the hall. We have slept in the same bed countless times before this, but never in a house alone. I have to take a deep breath and let it out gradually to try and slow down the heart that is now hammering in my chest.

She walks to the windows and opens them halfway, turning back to give me a small smile because she knows that I prefer to sleep with them open. I stand by the bed watching as she gathers some pajamas and then retreats the bathroom to change. Once she is out of the room, I sit on the edge of the bed trying to calm myself down. I didn't expect this to happen. I run my fingers through my hair, lay my elbows on my knees and take a few more deep breaths. Realizing that I have nothing to wear to bed besides the clothes that I'm in, I take off my pants, remove my prosthetic and climb under the covers in my t-shirt and boxers.

She comes out of the bathroom wearing a tank top and shorts with her hair free flowing around her shoulders. I have to physically control my breath as to not gasp at the sight of her. She is radiant but visibly self-conscious as she wraps her arms around herself. She turns out the light, climbs into bed and, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, curls up against my side and lays her head on my chest. I feel the contented sigh she releases and I allow myself to relax as well. We lay together in the dark while I idly run my fingers through the ends of her hair.

"Don't ever, I mean never, ever, go into Haymitch's bathroom," Katniss whispers just when I thought she had fallen asleep again. "I have seen some horrors and that place is damn near the top of the list."

We are both silent for a few more seconds before the laughter starts. It falls from our lips easily and doesn't stop for at least an hour. We laugh about things that we forgot were funny and my cheeks hurt by the time we are done. Eventually, we both grow quiet again and the steady sound of Katniss' even breaths lulls me to sleep as well.

* * *

I wake up in the morning to a tangle of sheets and skin. I'm laying on my stomach with my arm propped under my head and the other arm tucked in at my side. As my mind struggles to recognize where I am and my eyes adjust to the sunlight streaming in through the open windows, the memories of the night before start to return. As I go to move, I'm suddenly aware of the weight on my back. Katniss' head and chest are sprawled across my shoulder blades and upper back with her arm slung across my lower back and waist and the other hand tucked under her head on my shoulder. I can also feel her leg intertwined with my amputated limb. Her breathing is even and I know she is still asleep, so I try to limit my movement as much as possible. I can't help the smile that graces my lips. I'm in Katniss Everdeen's bed and it's the first full night of sleep I've had in months.

The gentle clanging of dishes tells me that Sae has already arrived and is downstairs cleaning our mess. There is no possible way for us to hide that I slept over now. The noise Sae is making wakes Katniss and at first she simply stretches without moving much, but as soon as she realizes the position we are in, I feel her spring off of me and over to her side of the bed. We lay on our sides facing each other. Her cheeks are flushed and her gaze is shy, but she doesn't hesitate to look directly into my eyes.

"Good morning," she says quietly.

"We slept all night," I reply with an easy smile. "Sae is here."

Katniss groans and rolls on her back bringing her hands up to cover her face. "This is going to be awkward," she murmurs through her hands before turning to face me again. "Maybe it's time to let Sae know we can cook our own meals? I bet she would rather spend the time with her granddaughter anyway."

I agree, adding that we should let Sae know that she is welcome to join us for meals anytime she would like, but that she doesn't have to make a point to cook for us anymore. If I'm being honest, I've been itching to try cooking a few things anyway, but didn't want to get in Sae's way in the kitchen or make her feel like she wasn't wanted there.

Katniss gets up and heads into the bathroom to clean up and change. I take the opportunity to attach my prosthetic and pull on my pants. Katniss returns from the bathroom fully dressed with her hair braided. She tells me that she is going to go speak with Sae and help her with the mess. After she leaves, I walk into the bathroom to clean up as well. I study my face in the mirror. I haven't really properly looked at myself for a long time. Recognizing each of my family members in my features has been too difficult to endure, but I take a second to try and see the reflection as just myself for a moment. My curls are disheveled and standing on end. There are dark circles under my eyes from lack of sleep and my face is thinner than I remember it being; however, there is a spark in my eyes that I haven't seen in at least a year. I'd forgotten what it looks like when someone wakes up happy.

I wash up as best I can and then join Sae and Katniss in the kitchen. Sae doesn't say anything, but the glances and small smiles she gives me lets me know that she approves of our new situation. She cooks her final breakfast for us and we eat in comfortable silence before she excuses herself promising to set a date to have dinner with us again one day soon.

Once Sae walks out the door, the realization hits that it's now just Katniss and I to fend for ourselves – and to make sure Haymitch keeps breathing. I turn to look at Katniss and she lets out a sigh while checking the clock.

"The 10am train will be arriving soon with shipments from the Capitol," she says. "Would you like to go pick up the shipment with me? I think the supplies from Dr. Aurelius may be there and I haven't been back to town in awhile."

She shuffles from foot to foot waiting for my response because she knows that going into town is a lot to ask from me.

"I haven't been back since I arrived. It didn't go well that time," I say with a frown.

"I thought maybe if we go together that we can protect each other…like we used to."

Unconsciously, my hands rake through my curls pulling the ends slightly as my mind is flooded with so many emotions at one time. On one hand, I am interested in seeing the progress that the rebuilding teams have made. The small amount of details Sae had told us about makes it seem like they have done a lot to bring the town center back to life. On the other hand, I'm terrified of having a flashback or a full blown blackout in front of Katniss. We've made so much progress together and even a minor flashback may send her running from me as quickly as possible.

But, I'm weak when it comes to Katniss Everdeen and the hopeful look in her eyes is all it takes for me to agree.

* * *

We stop at Haymitch's before we leave to see if he would like to join us. He is still asleep in his favorite chair, so we leave without waking him. In all honestly, I was truly hoping he would want to come along as he is the only one who has witnessed one of my blackouts and would be there to help if it was needed.

I'm terrified as we walk through the Victors Village arch and make our way down the path towards town. I try to focus on taking calming breaths to slow down the rapid heartbeat I can hear pounding in my ears. When we are a few hundred feet from town, I feel Katniss take my hand and entwine our fingers. She pulls me quickly through the streets and I can see her keeping most of her focus on the ground like I am. We must be a sight to behold – hands clasped, practically running down the street, not making eye contact with anyone or anything.

We make it to the platform just as the 10am train is arriving. I let go of her hand and lean my back up against one of the support beams that hold the platform roof in place. My head feels like it's spinning and my body feels heavy like I'm slowly sinking. I close my eyes and lightly bang the back of my head against the beam.

Fucking. Get. It. Together.

I open my eyes to see Katniss watching me. Her arms are wrapped around herself and she is shaking despite the warm temperature. I notice that I'm shaking too.

"I'm sorry. This was a bad idea," she says through clenched teeth.

"No. We can't stay holed up in the Village forever. This had to happen eventually and today is as good a time as any," I tell her while still attempting to take calming breaths.

She grabs one of the available supply carts and starts making her way to the cargo cars near the end of the train. "Let's just do this and get the fuck out of here."

I follow her and we load our supplies and deliveries as quickly as possible while avoiding the whispers and stares of the few other townspeople also on the platform. We both grab the cart handle and begin pulling it back through town. I hear a couple of people call out to us and I hold up my hand in what I hope looks like a wave, but we don't stop moving.

The anxiety of the trip and our quick pace has me a sweaty, shaky mess by the time we reach Katniss' front porch. I still feel like I'm sinking. Like I'm slowly melting into the earth. My vision is blurry and any sounds I can hear sound like I am hearing them under water. I grab my packages and quickly make my way to my front door.

"Peeta!" Katniss yells behind me.

"I…I just…I'll see you for dinner," I manage to get out as I stumble up my porch steps, tripping over myself and falling into my living room slamming my head on the wood floor. I can hear Katniss' frantic voice and the sound of pounding footsteps before everything goes black.

* * *

"Peeeetaaa….Peeeetaaa….Peeta wake up."

My lungs fill with air and I jolt upright at the sound of my name. The way it was said was so sweet and loving that I want to hear it again, but I can't see anything in the pitch black darkness I've found myself in. I sit quietly reaching my fingertips out around my body trying to feel anything that is familiar or that can give me a sense of where I am and that's when I hear it again.

"Peeeetaaa…Peeta, come find me. I want you. I need you. Peeeetaaa."

Katniss? My mind reels and my head moves from side to side trying to make out anything in all of this blackness.

"Katniss!" I scream. "Katniss, where are you? I can't see anything. It's so dark."

As the panic inside of me begins to reach fever pitch, that's when I see it. It starts as a faint glow in the distance like some campfire miles away, but as it gets closer to me it grows and burns brighter until it feels like I'm surrounded by it's heat and light.

It takes my eyes a moment to focus to the sudden absence of darkness and I suck in my breath at the sight before me. The creature in front of me looks like Katniss but her body is covered in flames. The fiery tendrils lick up from her feet and engulf her. Even her hair burns and smolders like a white hot ember. She reaches a hand out towards me and I see her claw like fingers that are dripping red with blood. I look up into her eyes and see the beautiful silver has been replaced with a putrid yellow, the pupil piercing and menacing like a predator.

"Peeta," she breaths as she reaches out and clutches me by my throat. The pain is instantaneous and radiates from my neck to my face and down my chest. I reach up and grab her arm to try and free myself from her grasp and my hands burn and blister at the touch. A desperate cry of pain leaves my scorched lips and she throws me to the ground. I lay there curling my burned hands into my chest and whimpering as the pain travels through every nerve ending in my body. I hear her cackling at my suffering.

"Oh, Peeta…look at you! You're so weak," she hisses. "Do you think I would ever want anyone like you. I don't. I never will."

I begin to shake violently and uncontrollably. I bring my wounded hands up to my head in a feeble attempt to block her voice as she continues.

"I killed your family. I burned them to ash and listened to them scream. But, they were happy to die just to be rid of you! They were embarrassed to have such a pathetic piece of shit like you in their lives."

I can't control the wail that leaves me. It comes from some place so deep inside myself that I don't even recognize my own voice as it's happening. Katniss laughs in my face and continues with her insults, punctuating each one by driving her fiery claw fingers into my skin. When I finally can take no more punishment or pain, I start to beg for her to kill me. The thought of death and the peace it will bring with it consume me and when she doesn't listen to my pleading, I start to scream.

"Kill me, Katniss. KILL ME!" I shriek and she must finally listen because she sets my entire body ablaze.

* * *

My eyes fly open and all I can hear are the sounds of my own screams echoing off the walls. I scramble on my hands and knees. Crawling until I reach the corner of my living room. Once there, I curl in on myself burying my face in my hands and feeling the tears already wet on my cheeks. My heart is pounding and I'm drenched in sweat. I push myself even further into the corner and murmur "not real" while my fingertips pull at the wet curls hanging limply on my forehead. A hand touches my shoulder and I can't help the way my body jerks away from it.

"Easy. You sure have a way of giving an old man a hard time, don't you, boy?" I hear Haymitch whisper.

I bring my hands away from my face and see the worry and helplessness etched in his eyes.

"Shit, shit. I'm sorry, Haymitch," I groan while wiping my face with the hem of my shirt and running my hands through my damp hair.

"S'ok, kid. I don't need an apology…but, she might."

He gestures over his shoulder and I see Katniss huddled on the floor by the door. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. Her eyes look wild and her face is full of pain. I wince and look away. I can't help myself. Visions of the mutt version of Katniss still swim in my head and the hateful, evil things she said to me are still ringing in my ears. I look to Haymitch, who is crouched down on the floor beside me, and he raises his eyebrows waiting for me to say something.

"K-Katniss," I croak, my throat raw and burning. "I'm so sorry. I never wanted you to have to see me like that ever again."

"It's my fault. I should have never asked you to come with me. I…Peeta, you asked me to kill you," she says in a tear soaked voice. Her eyes lock on mine and the gaze in unwavering. "You kept repeating it and screaming. I thought you were dying!"

She stands hastily wiping her eyes. Her gaze falls to the floor. "Damn you, Peeta. You scared me to death," she mutters before turning and walking out the door.

I turn to Haymitch who is looking at the open door where Katniss made her exit. He then sits against the wall beside me, leaning his head back, closing his eyes and straightening his legs with a sigh.

"She'll be fine. She's just scared. That was one hell of a show," he says.

"You should have seen the one in my head," I mumble.

He turns to look at me and gives me a hard stare while shaking his head. "Next time you two decide that it's a good day to be reckless and stupid…goddammit Peeta, just wake me up next time, ok?"

I nod my head in agreement as he turns his stare back to the door, pulling a flask out of his jacket pocket and taking a long drink. I notice that there is a slight tremble to his hands that he tries to hide by keeping them pulled into his sleeves. I'm lost in my own thoughts trying to compartmentalize the images and sounds still floating in my head when Haymitch begins to speak again.

"When I first returned home from my Games, before Snow took everything from me, there were times I thought about dying. I would lay awake at night with all the gruesome images in my head and when I would sleep…it was like going into the Games every night. There were no feelings of victory or glory like they said there would be. I only felt guilty for still being alive. And, when they took everyone from me and continued to take people out of my life every year, I turned to the only thing that could make me forget or make me feel nothing for a little while." He lifts the flask in his hands, shaking it for emphasis. "Now, _this_ is so much a part of who I am that I don't think I will ever be the same without it. I don't know if I want to be. But, _you_ are not _me_ and you don't deserve to die. You deserve to live. You both do."

I lower my head, running my hands through my hair until they settle on the back of my neck.

"I don't want to die, Haymitch," I say with a heavy sigh. "I…when I'm locked in my head, when I'm in that place, it is all consuming. I feel it everywhere and there are times when even if I know in the very back of my mind that it is not real, it just feels real. So fucking real. I can't explain it. The words that are said. The pain that I experience. In those moments, death would be a welcome friend. But, when I open my eyes and my body and mind are back where they belong, back with you and with Katniss, death is the furthest thing from my mind."

He bobs his head with a curt nod and places his hand on my knee, patting it twice before standing and making his way towards the door and closing it behind him as he exits. I slump back against the wall feeling completely drained.

* * *

My body is begging me to lay down on the hard floor and let sleep claim me, but it's barely mid-afternoon and the thought of what I may encounter when I close my eyes is enough motivation to get me up off the floor. I know I need to speak with Katniss. I don't know what she heard or what she saw, other than me asking her to kill me and I need to reassure her that I have no desire to die.

I make my way to her front door, knocking several times before twisting the knob to let myself in. The door is locked. With a determined breath, I move around to the backdoor only to find it locked as well. I stand at the door for a moment before panic starts to rise in my chest forming a lump in my throat the threatens to become tears. The last time she locked the doors was when she refused to leave the couch. She had resigned herself to death and had given up on everything. I can't let that happen again. I begin to pound on the door with both of my fists. Pleading with her to open the door. After several minutes I'm met with nothing but silence. I know Sae has a key, but she lives in town and I don't know if I'm able to go back there again today.

I circle around the house and that's when I notice the upstairs bedroom windows are still open. I make my way over to Haymitch's yard collecting several empty wooden crates laying haphazardly on their sides near his back door. Pulling them to the side of Katniss' house, I stack them – stupidly and dangerously – against wall before carefully climbing on top. My legs are shaking as I stand. My fingers spread-out against the house searching for anything I can use as a hold in case the crates tumble below me. Luckily, I'm just able to reach the window ledge with my hands outstretched and with a little bit of effort, I lift myself through the open window and into the bedroom.

I lay splayed on the floor catching my breath and cursing my stupidity for several minutes before sitting up and scanning the room. It's empty. The bed is still made from this morning and there is no evidence that anyone has been in here.

"Katniss?" I say loudly hoping not to scare her by my sudden presence in her locked house. Although, I'm sure she heard my less than graceful entrance. I go to the top of the stairs and lean down looking into the living room only to find it also empty. Stepping down one step, I lower myself down until I'm in a seated position and lean against the banister. My minds scrambles as I try to figure out where she may be. The obvious answer is the woods, which I know is a hopeless place for me to find her as I'm more likely to get myself lost or seriously injured. Just as I'm about to head over to Haymitch's and have me go back into town with me to find Sae, I hear a small whimper come from a closed door behind me.

I open the first door I find on my left and have to hold back an audible gasp. This room had to have been Prim's. The girlish decorations, frilly lace curtains, single stuffed animal resting against the pillows and small collection of toys lining a shelf on the wall are all the indication I need. I walk further into the room and find Katniss on the opposite side of the bed, laying on her side on the floor with the painting I had given her the night before propped against the wall. Her eyes are red and puffy with tears. I lower myself down to the floor, leaning my back against the wall at the end of the bed. She raises herself into a sitting position with her back against the side of the bed. Our bodies only inches from each other. I don't know how long we sit together in silence before she begins to speak.

"There was a time when I thought I could kill you if I needed to because it would keep me safe and keep other people safe, but I know now that I was just fooling myself. If it really came down to it, I would rather die than hurt you."

"Katniss, I-"

She raises her hand to stop me. "I've seen you have flashbacks in Thirteen and in the Capitol and I remember how you used to have nightmares after the Games, but I've never seen anything like today. Peeta, you were in so much pain. It was written all over face and the way your body moved. I just wanted to keep you from hurting, but my touch just made you scream louder and louder. I ran to get Haymitch. Then…then you started begging me to kill you. It started softly at first and then became more demanding until you were screaming it. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't help you. I couldn't protect you.

I move closer and cautiously grab her hand. She looks up at me, her eyes glassy and her lashes still wet. "I can't lose you again," she whispers.

My hands immediately grasp the sides of her face. My thumbs brushing softly along her cheekbones to gather any moisture lingering there. I feel her lean towards me and this time I don't stop it. Our lips meet softly and only for a few seconds. I pull away and lean my forehead against hers.

"Peeta," she whispers and that's all it takes for me to move forward and claim her lips fully this time. A small moan escapes her lips as our mouths join. It's not a frenzied or hectic kiss. It's slow and purposeful and passionate. Both of us letting our actions speak the words we are unable to say. Her hands weave into the hair at the nape of my neck and pull me closer. I trace the seam of her lips with my tongue and she parts them granting me access. I deepen the kiss as our tongues move together. Unlike the darkness I experienced earlier in the day, the fire that consumes me now is appreciated and makes me feel alive. It grows warmer and spreads out to the very ends of my being.

The knock at the door breaks us both apart. Katniss' face is flushed and her lips are swollen. She looks thoroughly kissed. I'm sure I look the same way. I rest my forehead on her shoulder and try to catch my ragged breath and then lift my head to search her face looking for any sign of regret or disappointment. She looks back at me with an expression that I don't know how to place and reaches up to brush my hair from my forehead.

The knocking on the door becomes more insistent and we reluctantly stand and go downstairs. Katniss unlocks and opens the door to find Haymitch standing there red-faced and out of breath.

"Are you two seriously trying to kill me today? I come out of my house to find a bunch of crates leaning up against your house like some sort of ridiculous makeshift ladder. Once I checked to make sure there wasn't a dead body laying next to them, I check Peeta's and guess what? No one is home! So, I come back here and I find the doors locked! I stood out here hollering and banging around with no answer. I thought you both just up and went off the deep end!"

He bends over to catch his breath. Then, putting the flask to his lips, takes several long gulps of the liquid inside. Finally, he turns back to us and his eyes dart between us taking in our appearance. They begin to narrow as he sees the flush to our cheeks. The sheepish way Katniss is avoiding eye contact. The half-smile I haven't quite been able to keep off my lips since leaving the upstairs bedroom.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," he says while raising his arms and looking up at the sky. "Here I am thinking that you both are hurt, but you both are feeling pretty good now, huh?" He raises an eyebrow pointedly at both of us. I can't help the snicker that escapes my mouth and I quickly bring my hand up to it to silence myself. I look at Katniss who has a smile threatening to emerge on her face as well. Haymitch turns and starts making his way back to his house.

"This is what I get for worrying. Next time, hang a sock on the doorknob or something so I know nobody's died and you two are just too busy sucking face or doing whatever the hell else you were up to in there!" Haymitch mutters with a roll of his eyes as he disappears inside his house.

Katniss closes the door and we turn to look at each other. Her eyes are wide and her hand is covering her mouth like mine is. We stare for a few moments longer before we both dissolve in a fit of laughter at the door. While I know that there are so many other things we need to talk about in light of all of the events of the day and things she needs to understand, it feels so good to see and hear her laughter. And, to be laughing along with her.

* * *

 **A/N - Things are starting to heat up! I hope you guys are still enjoying the story.**

 **As always, all mistakes are my own.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I sincerely apologize for the long wait between updates! Real life kicked my ass hard this past few months and I suffered from a bit self-consciousness about this story and my writing. But, I'M BACK and I hope to have more frequent updates for you. Please don't worry if it takes a little while between updates. I'll try to get them done as fast as possible, but with the holidays coming up that might get a little difficult. If it takes some time, just know that I have not abandoned this story! I hope that this update makes up for the wait :).**

 **Musical inspiration for this chapter: "Cannonball" by Damien Rice and "Touch Me" by Spring Awakening Original Broadway Cast**

 **As always, all mistakes are my own.**

* * *

My eyes fly open just like they have every morning for the past several weeks. Staring into the darkness I listen to Katniss' even breaths and soft snores until my eyes adjust. My body is screaming at me to just curl up next to the warm and enticing heat emanating from Katniss but I know my mind won't let me rest any longer. Carefully and as quietly as I can, I sit up in bed, attach my prosthetic and make my way out of the room gently closing the door behind me. I wait in the hall for several minutes to make sure Katniss didn't wake up and then I drag my tired body down the stairs and out the front door.

The air is warm and slightly humid. It's almost July. _Almost reaping time_ a small voice whispers in the back of my mind. Shaking my head, I stand on the front porch letting the light breeze blow through the thin fabric of my t-shirt and pajama pants and then I start heading out of Victor's Village until I reach the farthest point I've been alone. My hands begin to tremble. I hate that. It frustrates me to no end and makes me feel weak. I'm not weak. I survived two Hunger Games, torture and a war for fuck's sake. I can do this. Balling my fists to stop the tremble and letting out a breath through my teeth, I make my feet move 50 more steps towards town before I hang my head in defeat and sit down in the soft, dewy grass.

"You made it about half way to town today."

Haymitch's gruff voice startles me and I spin around on the defensive until I realize that it's him.

"Another 50 feet. Congratulations to me," I say sarcastically.

The corner of Haymitch's mouth curls up into smirk and his eyes narrow at me as he lowers himself down into the grass at my side. "You make it a little closer each day. One day you will get there."

My head cocks to the side in confusion as I look at him. "You've been watching me?"

"Well, hell yes, boy," he says matter-of-factly. "After the last shit show I wasn't about to let you do this alone. Besides," he says with a shrug, "I'm awake anyway."

"Speaking of, the sun will be up soon, isn't it getting past your bedtime old man?"

Haymitch chuckles under his breath, "These night time strolls have been keeping me up too late."

I smile and laugh softly to myself as I let my fingers slide through the grass making their way behind my head as I lower my back flat on the ground. "If you don't mind staying up a little later, you can watch the sunrise with me. It's pretty spectacular from this spot."

"Well, damn, boy. If that isn't the most romantic offer I've heard in years," he says while rolling his eyes. "Wouldn't you rather see this spectacular sunrise with a certain dark haired huntress instead of a drunken bastard like me?"

"She doesn't know I'm out here," I say quietly and Haymitch raises his eyebrows at me in question. "The last time I…it was bad on her, on all of us and I just wanted to do this myself so that the next time I did it with her I would be stronger. And, I don't think she would like the 'romantic offer' either, so I just let her sleep. At least one of us out of this merry band of misfits should be well rested, right?"

Haymitch grunts in reply and we sit in silence for awhile as the sky starts to turn pink and light orange just beyond the trees.

"I thought things were good between you two. At least it sure looked like it," he says breaking the silence and giving me a pointed look to remind me of his interrupting a heated kiss between Katniss and me.

"Mhm," I sigh lightly. "Nothing like that has happened since that day. We wake up, walk in the woods or she goes hunting and I bake or paint, we work on the memory book, we eat dinner and go to bed. It's good. It's peaceful, but it also feels very…I don't know how to describe it."

"Thick," he says with a nod. "The air around you two is so thick that everyone can feel it. Trust me, as much as it pains me to have these thoughts about you two, I just can't wait for you to get on with it."

I cover my face with a groan. "Haymitch…"

"That girl is wound so tight and one day she's going to snap. Hang in there, boy."

We both turn to watch as the sun starts to peek over the trees and bathe the district in its soft light. Pulling myself from the ground and brushing my shirt and pants clean, I reach down and help Haymitch to his feet and then follow him back home. Moving as silently as possible through the house and up the stairs. I crack the bedroom door to see that Katniss is still fast asleep on her side. I quickly remove my prosthetic and lay down next to her. With a muffled groan she turns over and burrows close to my side, her forehead tucked against my neck and under my chin. I feel her hand move under my back as she gets situated. If she notices the dampness of my shirt, she doesn't say anything and we both fall back to sleep.

* * *

I can feel her watching me as I sketch. I keep my eyes focused on the paper fighting the urge to look up and meet her gaze. She has been doing this more and more lately and, if I'm honest, I've been doing it to her as well. We remain at a standstill though and neither one of us has been willing to budge to talk about the kiss that happened between us a couple weeks ago.

My hand glides effortlessly over the page in front of me. I'm drawing my brother today. His hands are thrust in the air over his head in victory. His head is tilted down with his eyes closed and a smile ghosting over his lips. This was the day he won the school wrestling championship. He was so happy. He had to beat me to win and seeing the sheer joy it brought to him in that moment made losing to him very easy. I sigh at the memory trying to focus more on the sketch than the feelings of loss that I can feel rising to the surface inside me.

"I remember that day," Katniss says in a voice barely above a whisper. Her face has inched closer to mine as she leans over to view the sketch fully. I can't help myself as I take a deep breath of the lavender scent of her hair. She looks up and her eyes meet mine. We are so close that the tips of our noses are almost touching. I fight to keep my breaths even as my heart beat speeds up. I can see Katniss' chest rising and falling in quick, short breaths out of my peripheral vision. Suddenly, she clears her throat and moves back to her place on the floor across from me.

"You watched the wrestling matches?" I ask while trying to discreetly shake the slight tremble out of my hand before continuing my work on the sketch.

"Sometimes," she says and ducks her head, a slight blush creeping up her neck to her cheeks. "His name is…was Rye, right?"

I nod my head in agreement and lean back against the living room couch behind me bringing the sketch up closer to my face with my knees. Taking a long moment to look everything over one last time, I hand the book back to Katniss so she can add the details. She looks at me expectantly, her hand poised over the parchment, waiting.

"Rye was sarcastic and funny. He used to tease me relentlessly. When I was younger, I remember wishing that I would wake up one day and he would be gone because he picked on me so much. Now, I would give just about anything to have just one more day with him. We were just over a year apart in age and he was one of my closest friends when I was little. I guess, in a way, he probably was one of my closest friends as I got older too. He was a decent baker. A much better pie maker than I am, but I know he dreamed of a life outside of the bakery. He told me once after the first Games that he wished it had been him that was chosen instead of me. At the time I thought he just wanted the fame and fortune, but looking back, I think he may have wanted to take on the burden that the Games leave you with for himself to spare me. He was fiercely loyal and loved with all of his heart, although he would never admit to that. Once, when I was very small, maybe 4 or 5, I remember that I grabbed a tray of cookies that hadn't quite cooled yet and burned my hand which made me drop the tray on the floor. My mother was furious because they were chocolate chip and chocolate was very expensive so we didn't bake with it much. She pulled her hand back to smack me and Rye step in the path of the strike instead. He then did the best we could to bandage my hand while I put ice on the bruise on his face. He was a good man."

I put my head down and rub the heel of my palm where the burn scar used to be before it had been buffed and polished away by the Capitol. Memories of Rye flash through my mind as I listen to the light scratching of ink on paper while Katniss adds the finishing touches to the sketch closing the book when she is done. With my head still down and my eyes closed, I feel her body press gently against my side. We sit in silence enjoying the close proximity to each other and the calm breeze blowing through the house from the open windows. Looking through the fluttering curtains I can see the sun beginning to sink lower in the sky. I know I need to go home. I need a shower and a minute to decompress from an emotionally draining day, but sitting beside Katniss in comfortable silence has such a calming effect that I don't want to move.

"I should go home before dinner," I say quietly, turning to look at her. "I need to shower. I'll be back within an hour. Is there anything you want or need me to bring?"

She starts to shake her head and then stops herself. I can see conflicting emotions flash across her face as she struggles with what she has to say. "Haymitch is coming tonight, so if you have any liquor, you can bring that. I'm completely out and I don't know how much he has," she finally says.

I stand and stretch then turn to head for the door. "Peeta," she says softly. I turn and see she has gotten up from the floor as well. She nervously wipes her hands on her pants and fidgets with her fingers. Her eyes desperately searching for anything to look at besides me. "I was thinking…I mean, if you want or if you feel comfortable with it…it's just that you are here every day already and it seems like such a hassle for you to go back and forth. Would you want to just move in here? With me?" She glances at me and then at the floor, wincing slightly at her awkwardness and then I watch as she squares her shoulders, juts out her chin and meets my eyes ready for whatever answer I give her.

My heart is screaming at me to tell her yes immediately, but my brain slows my tongue. This is a big step. Living together is huge and I don't even know what it is that we _are_. We are still so careful around each other and she still seems so unsure of what she wants. I can't move in with her and then months later she decides that this isn't something she wants to do anymore. It would end me. I'm almost certain it definitely would. My eyes find hers and she is looking at me almost pleadingly, her cheeks ruddy from embarrassment.

"What are we, Katniss? What are we doing?" I asked. Her jaw drops and her breath hitches in her throat, her shoulder sag slightly and she looks away. "I have to know," I continue. "I can't move in here with you without knowing what you're thinking."

"I don't know. It just feels like a little part of me breaks when you have to leave. Even if it's just for a little while and I know you'll be right back. I want you to be here with me."

Her breaths are fast and shallow and I realize that mine are too. My mind is spinning and I feel a smile threatening to break out across my face, but I try to keep in in check. Before I can stop myself, I move across the room stopping just as my lips graze Katniss'. She exhales a tremulous breath, her eyes fluttering close. My hands find purchase on her hips and a small moan escapes her lips, her breath caressing my face.

"Okay," I say against her mouth then I drop my hands and step away from her. Her eyes fly open, the pupils fat and dark. She glances at my mouth while her tongue darts out to wet her lips. She takes a step toward me. "I'll just go back to my house and shower and pack up some stuff and then I'll come back here. Back home. We can figure the rest out later," I say and she stops in her tracks. She tugs lightly on her braid and then nods in agreement.

I reach for her hand, curl my fingers with hers and bring the hand to my mouth to plant a light kiss across her knuckles before turning back towards the door. "You know, Haymitch is going to have a field day with this," I say as I let go of her hand to move out onto the porch.

"I know," she grumbles, her eyes raising up to find mine again with that scowl I love so much present on her face.

* * *

When Haymitch caught sight of a box of my things along with a suitcase sitting by the stairs, I could see the gleam of glee in his eyes at the prospect of having something to tease us about. And, he did just that. All through dinner the scowl was a permanent fixture on Katniss' face as Haymitch did everything in his power to tease her about our new living situation, but I could see that the scowl didn't really reach her eyes. She was enjoying the playful side of Haymitch just as much as I was. His teasing didn't bother me as much. I knew that deep down he was happy for us and for the direction our relationship seemed to be going.

After dinner was finished and Haymitch had left, Katniss and I gathered the dishes to wash in the sink. The house had all the Capitol amenities including a dishwasher, but both of us were so used to washing dishes by hand that it was just second nature to us at this point. I took my place beside her to rinse and dry as she washed. I could feel my heart beating wildly against my ribcage. Now that I am here and this house is no longer Katniss' but ours, I can feel the dynamic shift between us. There is so much tension that the air feels thick. I remember what Haymitch said about that. Maybe that's why he was so quick to leave tonight.

We both jump slightly every time our arms or hands brush when she hands me a clean dish. I can see suds of soap clinging to the end of her braid where she has been tugging it nervously with soapy hands. My body feels like a rubber band stretched to its limit, like I could snap at any second and my insides would burst into a million pieces. Katniss hands me the last dish and quietly clears her throat. Her tongue slowly brushes across her lips before her top teeth snag the bottom lip. I've noticed this habit she has of chewing her lip in awkward or intense situations. Watching her now gives me a near uncontrollable urge to pull that lip into my mouth. I swallow hard.

I rinse and dry the dish setting it aside. Gripping the edge of the sink, I chance a sidelong look at Katniss. She is watching me intensely, her lip still snagged between her teeth. I turn to face her watching her hands twitch helplessly at her side like she is trying to decide what to do with them. Finally feeling that rubber band inside me snap, I mumble "fuck it" and move towards her claiming her mouth with my own. She squeaks in surprise before quickly melting into the kiss, her lips moving expertly with mine and her hands climbing my chest before coming to a stop behind my neck. I walk her back against the counter until our bodies are flush. She sighs into my mouth taking control of the kiss and coaxing my tongue to play with hers.

My hands find purchase in her hair as my thumbs cradle her neck and jaw. I bring her bottom lip into my mouth sucking it gently. I hear the guttural moan before I realize that it's coming from me. This spurs Katniss on as she pushes back against me with her mouth, her hands moving from my neck, down the planes of my shoulders to my lower back. She pulls my hips to hers and feeling my arousal against her, she stops the kiss but she doesn't release me. We both pant breathlessly against each others lips and then I feel her shift her hips against me slowly. We both moan. I close my eyes and place my forehead against hers. She grinds her hips into mine again experimentally. The sensation is overwhelming.

"Peeta," she says in a breathless whisper while still rocking her hips against mine. It feels good. Too good. If I don't take control of this, I'm afraid it's only going to end up in embarrassment. I grab her hips to stop her and she makes a small whimpering sound. I bury my face in her neck to try and hide the chuckle before lifting my head to whisper in her ear, "I know. It feels good to me too. So very good." My voice sounds foreign to me. It's lower and huskier than I intended it to be. She nods her head and I lift her up onto the countertop. She opens her legs pulling me against her once more.

I've only dreamed of being like this with Katniss before so the fact that it's happening in real life is sending me into a dizzying tailspin. I try to pause and get my bearings, but I feel her hands cup my jaw and bring my lips back to hers. They are warm and wet and pliant against my own. Her tongue drags across my lower lip before pulling it into her mouth imitating what I had done to her earlier. With my hands still on her hips, I scoot her to the edge of the counter where we are pressed together again. She hisses against my mouth, her hands clinging to my back trying to pull my impossibly closer. I feel her legs wrap around me and then her hips start to move again. This time I won't stop her. Embarrassment be damned. This is the stuff of my dreams and I don't ever want it to end. I start to move my hips along with her, thrusting against her center. We break the kiss, leaning our cheeks together. Her pants become moans and her hips start to move in a frenzied and frantic way. Her hands reach up to grip my shoulders and she whispers "don't stop" into my ear. I couldn't quit now even if I wanted to. I feel my own release building and I'm too far gone to stop it. Katniss cries out, her body going stiff, her back arching slightly and her legs clenching around my torso and that's all it takes for me to fall over the edge with her. I muffle my cry into her shoulder, bucking my hips twice more before we both become still.

We cling to each other panting, flushed and boneless until our breaths return to normal. Finally, I look up at Katniss. Her hair is a mess. Her lips are red and swollen, her cheeks ruddy. She looks absolutely gorgeous. It takes my breath away. The only thing I can think to do in the moment is place a gentle kiss on her lips before stepping away and helping her down from the counter. I pull my shirt down discreetly trying to cover the evidence of what happened to my pants. We look at each other, smile and look away. Then, we both laugh. Katniss grabs my hand and starts to pull me toward the stairs. I wordlessly follow her to her bedroom – our bedroom – knowing 100% in that moment that I am forever in love with this woman. I'm still a goner.


	6. Chapter 6

**Happy Holidays! I really wanted to get you an update before I went out of town next week. I already have Chapter 7 halfway finished and I hope (fingers crossed) to be able to post that in the next couple of days as my gift to you :). I have to admit I struggled with this chapter and did a lot of editing because I wanted to get the characterization right. More A/N at the end!**

* * *

This must be a dream. A beautiful dream where the details are frenzied and fuzzy in your mind, but the feelings are real and deep. Except, I don't have beautiful dreams. I have horrible, vivid, monstrous nightmares that haunt the very edges of my being. This all feels too good to be real. More good than I deserve after all the things I've done. I gently brush my fingers across the curve of Katniss' side. She lets out a noise of agreement and burrows in closer to me. Her lips graze my neck and I feel my body respond. She's bare from the waist up, as am I, and her arm is draped loosely across my waist. Tendrils of hair frame her face while the rest falls in a cascade across my arm and down her back. Her cheeks are flushed from sleep. I peer down at where my fingers lay gently against her side and my eyes follow the round curve of her breasts, delicate slope of her waist and the fullness of her hips. I relish the feel of her chest rising and falling against me and the way the air leaving her slightly parted lips tickles the fine hairs on the back of my neck.

I still can't believe the night before happened. I hadn't meant for it to happen like that. My plan has always been to take small steps, get to know each other again without all of the other interference and then see what happened from there. But, the air was like electricity and I couldn't stop myself. I had to taste her and I had to feel her even if it wasn't entirely real on her part. Even if she may have just been using me to struggle through her own pain and grief. If I'm honest with myself, there may have been a small part of me that was using her too because getting lost in each other made everything else fall away. In those moments there was no Hunger Games, no war, no torture, no death, no heartbreak, no nightmares, no scars. There was only us.

* * *

What started in the kitchen continued once we were upstairs. I had followed Katniss to the bedroom where she shyly excused herself to the bathroom and I took the opportunity to grab a fresh pair of pajamas and underwear and made my way quickly to the second bathroom down the hall. I heard Katniss start the shower as I walked out of the bedroom, so I also took the time to stand under the hot spray of the second tub to wash away the evidence of my overexcitement and gather a little bit of composure before facing her again.

What I hadn't expected as I re-entered the bedroom was to see Katniss sitting on the edge of the bed, her damp hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. The water dripping from her hair made her white tank top sheer. She wasn't wearing a bra. I couldn't breathe. The towel I was using to dry my hair fell to the ground as she pushed me up against the door. The force of our bodies closed the door with a loud crack that made us both jump. Her mouth moved slowly towards mine, faltering just as our lips began to meet. We had kissed a thousand times before, but this was different. Unlike in the kitchen, I was cautious now, shy, and so was she.

Her fingers drifted to the hem of my shirt, ghosting over the small patch of bare skin exposed there, leaving goose bumps in their wake. My breath caught and I shivered. I could feel her body shaking against mine. I closed my eyes and leaned my forehead against hers.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she confessed against my lips.

To be honest, I didn't really either. My inexperience was only slightly less than hers due to the fact that I had two older brothers that loved to make me squirm by oversharing details of their own exploits.

"Me either," I breathed.

She gripped my shirt and eased it up and over my head. It fell to the floor by my long forgotten towel. She took a small step back to take me in. Her hands skimmed the planes of my chest, stopping briefly as she discovered the various scars that littered my body from my time in the Capitol and District 13. She leaned in and gently placed her lips against a particularly gruesome mark that ran the length of my right side. I couldn't think. I was barely breathing. My head fell back against the door. Her lips traveled across the planes of my stomach and moved up to my chest. She experimentally flicked her tongue across my nipple and I had to bite down on my lip to stifle a moan. The experience was more erotic than anything I had ever imagined. I was so hard that it was nearly painful. There was no way that Katniss didn't notice. I was at war with myself as to whether I should push against her or pull back, but she made the decision for me when her palm reached down to stroke me through my pants.

Her touch was light and unsure, but the feeling was unbelievable. My eyes rolled back in my head. I didn't want to come in my pants again and we were getting dangerously close to that happening, so I grabbed her wrist and raised her palm to my mouth placing a light kiss there. I opened my eyes to find her looking at me with such depth that it felt like I could sink into her eyes and be lost forever. She glanced back down to my scars, running her fingers across the burn marks on my neck. Her eyes met mine again.

"I want to tell you how handsome you are, but you are so much more than that. I wish I had the right words," she said shaking her head.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," I replied.

I brushed my fingers across her cheek and down her scarred arms, my eyes never leaving hers. Then, her lips met mine and we poured all the passion we felt in that moment into that kiss. Hot and wet. Lips and tongues.

We stumbled towards the bed. My prosthetic hit the edge and I fell backwards onto the mattress pulling her on top of me. My lips found a sensitive spot on her neck that made a low moan tumble from her mouth, so I worshipped it and tried the other side too. My hands slid against the warm skin of her back, sides and stomach. Her tank top had ridden up to just below her breasts. My exploring fingers stopped there. I looked up at her. With shaking fingers, she reached for the hem and pulled the shirt off, flinging it to the floor. Then, she was bare to me for the first time. She straddled my waist. I sucked a greedy breath in through my nose. She leaned down until her skin was flush with mine.

"Touch me, Peeta," she sighed in my ear.

So I did with my hands and my mouth. When I pulled a taut bud with my lips and lightly scraped it with my teeth she made a noise in the back of her throat that ended with my name. It was the most wonderful sound and I vowed to hear it as many times as I could for the rest of my life. I had never felt more alive.

I flipped us over and pinned her underneath me so we were skin on skin. Her legs parted for me and I sank down against her. We both groaned in satisfaction. I bucked into her and she raised her hips to meet mine. The pleasure that rolled through me was nearly too much. I brought my mouth to hers and as I moved against her again she keened her approval against my lips.

And, suddenly we were at a precipice. My body begged me to continue. To move my hands to her waistband and remove the last pieces of clothing. To feel what it would be like to be enveloped by her. My mind screamed at me to slow down. This shouldn't happen yet. We need more time. We're both still too fragile to take this step and neither of us are ready for any possible consequences from our actions tonight.

I stilled on top of her. Our chests heaved together and our ragged breaths met in the night air. With my forearms still holding myself above her, I nervously played with the ends of her hair that had fanned out around her head like a halo. I was unsure of what to say, how to put into words how badly I wanted this and how much I wasn't ready. I'd always been so good with words.

"Peeta," Katniss murmured against my cheek.

I met her eyes, dark and hooded with lust. "I…I don't think we should…"

Her eyes shifted away from mine to look at the wall. "Can we just go to bed then? Like we normally do?" She asked.

"Yes."

I lifted myself off of her and awkwardly turned to sit on the edge of the bed. I adjusted myself with the waistband of my pants. I turned to look back at her as she crawled under the covers still topless. I closed my eyes trying to burn that image into my brain.

"I'm…I'm just going to use the bathroom and then I'll be back," I stammered, my prosthetic tripping slightly on one of the shirts on the floor.

She just nodded, looking sheepish and flustered as I quickly slipped into the bathroom and closed the door.

I looked down at myself straining against the fabric of my pants and underwear. I definitely couldn't go back out there to her with this and the ache was unlike anything I had felt before. I placed my hot face against the coolness of the tiled wall. I had no choice. I gripped myself firmly. It was embarrassingly fast. The thought of Katniss' hand touching me, her bare breasts pressed against my chest and in my mouth had me spilling myself into my free hand within seconds. I washed up quickly in the porcelain basin, allowing myself a moment to take a couple deep breaths. Everything was catching up with me and I suddenly felt exhausted. I opened the bathroom door to find her curled up on her side waiting for me. I sat on the edge of the bed, removed my prosthetic and laid down beside her. She moved her head to my chest. I ran my fingers through her hair. Neither of us said anything. Her breathing became deeper and more even. I could feel myself drifting into sleep as well and just before it pulled me under, I whispered the only thing I could think to say into her hair.

"I love you."

* * *

The early morning sky is just turning a lighter shade of blue as I watch the tree line outside the windows. The sun has not yet risen, but it will soon. The baker's hours instilled in me as a child have never really left. I'm always up before the sun and usually before Katniss. I don't mind it though. I like watching her sleep, especially now with her naked chest pressed tightly against me. My father and brothers would be so happy that at least this part of the life I dreamed about was coming true. They knew I loved her before the rest of the world did. I believe they were always there quietly rooting for us in the background. My mother was another story entirely. She never approved of Katniss or her upbringing or my devotion to her. She tried repeatedly to beat it out of me. It never worked.

My arm is falling asleep. I gently and slowly wiggle my fingers to get rid of the tingling in my hand. Katniss stirs at my side. She stretches. Her hand slides across my chest as the sleepiness fades. Her eyes pop open. She looks at me and then down at her bare chest. Her cheeks turn crimson and she springs away from my side. Her hands grip the sheet pulling it up to cover herself. I sit up slowly trying to understand what is happening. I watch as her eyes dart frantically around the room trying to locate her tank top. It is lying abandoned on the floor next to my prosthetic. I reach down, pick it up and hand it to her carefully.

"Katniss," I whisper, trying to keep the hurt out of my voice.

She snatches the shirt from me and turns her back towards me pulling the shirt over her head quickly. I reach out and lightly touch her shoulder. My fingers barely make contact with her skin and she jumps up from the bed.

"Katniss, please," I try again. The pain is evident in my voice now. I can't help it.

She turns to look at me. Her eyes are wide and glistening with unshed tears. The only emotion I see in them is fear. She's afraid. Of me?

Oh, no. No, no, no, no, no.

This is exactly what I feared would happen. I can physically feel my heart breaking beneath my ribs. I can feel my own tears building.

Shit. Don't cry. Not now.

With her back to me again, she quickly throws on pants and a shirt over her pajamas and turns towards the door. Her hair is still loose and billows away from her face and back with her fast pace. She opens the door and stops. Her hand rests on the door frame. She turns to look at me again. The tears are falling from my eyes now even though I've mentally begged them not to.

"I…I can't Peeta," she murmurs so softly I almost don't hear her. The tears are falling from her eyes now too. Then, she disappears into the darkened hall. I hear her light footsteps on the stairs. The front door slams shut. I grab the bedside lamp and hurl it across the room. I watch it shatter into a thousand pieces. Just like me.

* * *

I throw back the sheet, painfully attach my prosthetic and throw my t-shirt over my head. I rush down the steps and out the door.

"Katniss!" I yell into the humid morning air, but she's gone. She's always going to be faster than me especially when she wants to run away. The dew from the grass of the front lawn covers my foot and gathers at the hem of my pajama pants. I can barely feel it and didn't even realize I had run out without shoes. I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends in frustration. I keep trying to go over the details of the night before to figure out what changed between the time we went to bed and the moment we woke up. She wanted me last night. She asked me to touch her. She told me not to stop. But, I did stop. Was that it?

I turn and head to the darkness of my house. So much has changed between yesterday and today that it's hard for me to remember that it hasn't even been a full day since I officially moved out, although I only moved the necessities. With my bare foot tracking mud across the wood floors, I turned and climbed the stairs, entering my study at the end of the hall and slamming the door with enough force to make several paintings fall from the wall.

Confusion, regret and heartbreak sweep through me and then a feeling of déjà vu. I've been here before. Felt these things before, standing alone in this room surrounded by the images of death and destruction and the woman I love who doesn't love me back. Maybe my mother had been right all along. I'll never be somebody that someone will want. I'm too soft. Too weak. A "miserable, fucking waste of space." As she so often put it.

I spy a nearly finished painting sitting on an easel. It is of Katniss at her birthday party with the look on her face as she realized what was happening. I had been working on just a few days ago and it was almost finished. I grab it from the easel and toss it across the room with strength that I had forgotten that I had. The wooden frame collides with the wall and splinters. I watch it fall to the floor. Then, it is like I can't stop myself. The room becomes a flurry of canvas and wood and paint. At some point I hear what sounds like glass breaking and feel a sharp pain in my hand and foot, but I'm too far gone to really pay attention.

It's the painting of my father's hands that stop me. It is still leaning up against the wall unfinished. As soon as my eyes catch sight of it I crumble to the floor. I'm a sweaty, shaking mess of tears, sweat, paint and I then realize blood. The glass door to an ornate enclosed bookcase is broken. The fingers and knuckles of my right hand are cut and bleeding. There's several small pieces of glass embedded in my bare foot. I pull them out slowly and then curl in on myself next to the painting. My father would be disappointed at the way I handled myself in this room. He would say it isn't like the Peeta he knew. He would be right. I'm not that Peeta anymore.

* * *

 **I hope no one is too mad at me for ending it here. I promise I will get the next chapter up as quickly as I can! Also, since this story is not told from Katniss' POV I wanted to make a little side note about her behavior in this chapter. She really struggles with emotional intimacy and everyone she loves has either left her or been killed, so realizing that she could possibly have intense feelings for Peeta and then acting on those feelings would be a lot for her emotionally (IMO). Plus, she is kind of an "act first, think later" sort of person, so the physical part of their relationship moving faster than the emotional part (at least from her perspective) would be realistic to the character.**

 **I can't say thank you enough to everyone who is reading, favoriting and following this story! It fills me with such happiness to know that you are enjoying it!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Musical inspiration: Unsteady by X Ambassadors and Shelter by Ray LaMontagne**

 **All mistakes are my own.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

I hear the study door open and heavy footsteps entering the room. I smell the stale alcohol and body odor. I don't even have to look up to know that it's Haymitch. I must have been making a hell of a racket if he's over here.

"Peeta?"

I raise my head towards him. He stops and takes in my appearance and the carnage around the room. His eyes go wide. It must be worse than I realize. He continues into the room, being careful to avoid the mess and makes his way towards me.

"What happened?" He asks delicately, like he is talking to a small child or a wounded animal.

"She left," is all I can reply. My body is still trembling from emotion, exertion and the adrenaline coursing through me. My breaths are shallow and the effort it takes for me to breathe feels extraordinary. My hand and foot are on fire. I watch the blood drip from my fingers and stain a piece of ripped canvas on the floor.

"What? I don't understand. Why did she leave? When?" Haymitch asks as he squats down in front of me and sets both of his hands on my shoulders. "Deep breaths, boy." When I don't respond and keep my eyes trained on the unfinished painting of my father, Haymitch roughly grabs my chin and turns my head towards his so I am looking directly into his eyes. "Breathe, Peeta. Get control of yourself before you lose it again. I've had too much to drink to be dragging you around or cleaning up this mess on my own. Not that this hasn't already completely ruined my buzz."

I take a deep, ragged breath forcing air in and out of my lungs until I feel it become easier.

"Good," he says, grabbing my arms and hauling me to a standing position. The sun is peeking over the trees now and the rays are just starting to fill the room through the window. He stands behind me and maneuvers me out of the room and down the hall to the rarely used second bathroom. He pushes me down onto the edge of the tub while he scours the cabinets for supplies. I stare at the bloody foot print on the white tile floor. Once he has what he needs to clean and bandage the cuts on my hand and foot, he squats down again until he is level with my downturned eyes. "Now, start at the beginning."

I tell him as much as I can while still sparing most of the more embarrassing details. He leans back against the wall once my wounds have been bandaged and he has cleaned the blood from the floor. We sit in silence for several minutes.

"Thank you," I say, gesturing to the bandages.

He waves the gratitude away with his hand and shrugs. "She's probably just in the woods, you know? Gathering her thoughts or whatever the hell it is that she does out there when she's not hunting. I told her once that she could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve you. I think the realization of that might be crashing in on her right now."

I shake my head at him in disagreement. I don't feel like I'm worth one lifetime let alone a hundred, but I know that if she would give me just one I would take it.

"Will this ever get easier? Will there ever be a day when walking to town takes no thought at all? Where I can close my eyes and not see the faces of every single person I've lost or every life I've taken? Where I can look in the mirror and recognize myself? Where she looks at me and loves me back?" I ask.

"Look, kid, I –" he pauses searching for the right words, "I'm just an old drunk who has seen far too much death and has lost too many people, but when your names were called and you two stepped on that stage for the first time, I was finally given something I hadn't had in a long time. Hope. It took me years to find it again and I can't lie to you, it may take you a long time too, but the world changed because of you and if you have the power to change the world then I think that you may find some things becoming easier one day."

"It wasn't me who changed the world," I say dismissively. "That was Katniss."

"Let me tell you something about Katniss," he says turning his face towards mine so I meet his eyes again. "Everything that happened…the Games, the war, her becoming the Mockingjay, she survived it because of you." He raises a hand when I start to dispute him again. "No, I don't think you understand or give yourself enough credit. Sure, she went into the first Games for Prim, but she survived them and won them because of you. After the second Games, when she found out you had been taken, she was a mess. She would probably kill me for telling you this, but she spent a good portion of the time in air vents and closets. She barely ate or slept. She constantly clutched that damn pearl you gave her even though she thought no one noticed. She didn't even agree to be the Mockingjay until she knew that you wouldn't be punished for the things that Snow made you say and that Coin would try and rescue you. And, after, when we got you back, she was hurt and confused but she never gave up on you. So, you see, this whole revolution, this changing the world, may never have happened without you."

I frown and hang my head. I can feel my pulse throbbing on one of the more significant cuts on my hand and I concentrate on that as I let what Haymitch said wash over me. It's hard for me to see myself playing anything other than a supporting role, an insignificantly small piece in a much larger puzzle.

"I think you give me too much credit. There were so many people she loved and cared for; Prim, Gale, Cinna, Rue, Finnick, her mother. She fought and survived for them," I say.

Haymitch groans in frustration and pokes me in the chest with his finger. "You're not completely wrong, but you are also high on that list for her. She may have fought and survived for them, but now, she lives for you." He sighs and pulls himself off the ground. "I'm going to go see if you have any food in this dump," he says with a smirk as he walks out the bathroom door. "You have to let her head catch up with her heart. Give her time. Wait for her," he calls from the hall.

"Always," I whisper.

* * *

I walk gingerly down the hall to my study. My limp is even more pronounced now with the bandage on my foot and the thump of my prosthetic echoes loudly in the hall. I stand in the doorway surveying all of the damage and listening to Haymitch in the kitchen. I think there might be a partially stale cinnamon raisin loaf down there that he can have. He won't mind that it's stale.

The room is a disaster. There is wet paint dripping from the walls and splitters of broken wooden frames scattered across the floor. Glass from the bookcase litters one corner of the room and my bloody handprints and footprints are everywhere. The thing that frightens me the most is that I can't even remember doing it. The time from when I threw the first painting to when I saw my father's hands is completely blank in my mind.

I limp to the hall closet and gather cleaning supplies and begin to do my best to straighten up the chaos. At one point while I'm on my hands and knees scrubbing at the dried blood and paint on the floor, Haymitch announces from the bottom of the stairs that he is going to try and catch some sleep. A few minutes later I hear his loud snores drifting up from my living room. He's worried about what will happen if he leaves me alone. I groan inwardly at the mess I've become.

Once the majority of the room had been cleaned, I shut the door and cross the hall to my old bedroom. It feels like it's been lifetimes since I slept in here. It was never a comfortable room for me. It never really felt like mine. It always felt lonely and cold. I walk to the large attached master bathroom and turn the dials to find the setting I like the best in the shower. It's not until I see my reflection in the mirror that I realize the complete disaster I am. My hair is standing on end and speckled with dried paint. My shirt and pants are covered in splashes of paint and blood. I turn my eyes away disgusted with myself and pull some more bandages out of the cabinet drawers.

The spray of the hot water stings as it penetrates my cuts. The water circling the drain is a mix of so many colors that it turns a muddled brown before it sinks away. When the water begins to turn cold, I quickly wash my hair and body, turn off the water and grab one of the extravagant Capitol issued towels to wrap around my waist. I wrap my hand and foot again and avoid the mirror as I exit the bathroom. The sun is higher in the sky now. It can't be more than midday and yet, I can feel an incredible exhaustion already settling into my bones. Rummaging through the sparse amount of clothes still left in the room, I find a worn pair of jeans and an old t-shirt I used to wear at the bakery that still faintly smells of flour and spices. I pull them on, pushing down the deep sadness I feel and limp down the stairs to fall into a chair beside Haymitch's sleeping body.

It's the hunger gnawing my stomach that wakes me up. I hadn't even realized I'd fallen asleep. My eyes open to see the sun already dipping low in the sky and beginning to descend beyond the trees. A kick to Haymitch's leg jolts him awake, his arms swinging wildly until he remembers where he is. He pats my shoulder and staggers to the door mumbling something about being thirsty. I watch his hunched form cross the path to his house from the window and then look at the house next door to his. Exhaling a long breath, I lift myself out of the chair and limp out of the door.

Slowly climbing the steps of the home that Katniss and I now share, I hesitate at the door unsure if I should knock or just let myself in. After this morning I don't know if she even still wants me here. I decide to let myself in, opening the door gently and only seeing darkness. Her boots and jacket are still missing. I walk through the house checking the rooms for any sign that she has been back home. There aren't any. I grab a slice of plain white bread, swallowing it quickly just to quell the angry noises my stomach is making. I don't really feel hungry regardless of my body's demand for food.

I limp slowly around the house cleaning and making a sandwich for Katniss for when she returns back home. Our bedroom is a mess and it takes me longer than usual to pick up all the broken ceramic lamp pieces with my injured hand. Once the room is straightened and the bed is made again, I carefully pull on my shoes and move to sit on the front porch and wait.

The sun has long disappeared beyond the trees leaving the summer sky painted in dusky, muted hues that I've spent countless hours trying to recreate for my paintings. I still don't know if I've ever succeeded in capturing them correctly. Haymitch's door squeaks open and he walks out onto his porch giving me a questioning look. I shake my head and turn my gaze back to the trees. My hands become more and more restless as the darkness grows with each passing minute. Haymitch makes his way over to the porch and sits down beside me.

When darkness has completely consumed us, I stand and make my way towards the opening in the fence. My fists curl unconsciously with frustration, anger and fear. Why hasn't she come home? Out of everything, fear is what grips me the most. I spent the day trying to give her the space she needed to come to terms with whatever it is that she was feeling and she could have been hurt or dying out here. I'm angry with myself for wasting all of that daylight feeling sorry for myself when I should have been worried about her. Haymitch grabs my shoulder when I reach the fence. He's bent over and wheezing. I must have been moving much faster than I realized.

"You can't go out there now, boy. It's dark. You don't know these woods like she does. You could end up injured or worse."

His grip tightens as I ignore his plea and move to turn away from him. "Goddammit, Peeta. No!"

"What if something has happened to her, Haymitch? Am I just supposed to sit here and do nothing?" I ask, the panic making my voice break slightly.

He sighs, using his free hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "If anyone knows how to handle these woods, it's her. I'm sure this isn't the first time she has had to spend the night out there. It's warm out and she has a weapon and fresh water. If she's not back at dawn, then we will go find her. I will send word into town for help too."

I can't decide if he is telling me these things to appease me or because he really believes them, but I know that he is right; I wouldn't be doing anyone any good stumbling through the woods alone at night. I hang my head in resignation and follow him back to the porch. We stay out there all night. At one point, Haymitch offers me his flask and I wave him away. I don't want to be tempted into drowning everything out like he does. I don't judge him for it, but I'm not ready to live my life that way.

I must fall asleep at some point because the soft scrap of boots on gravel cause me to shoot up off of the porch railing I was slumped against and squint against the morning light. The last thing I remember was listening to Haymitch's drunken mutterings in the darkness. She stands at the foot of the stairs glancing at me quickly with wide, apologetic eyes. She looks at the bandage on my hand and her lips pull down in a slight grimace. Her mouth opens like she is going to ask about it, but she closes it and looks away.

"Well, shit," Haymitch slurs. "Look who decided to grace us with her presence. We thought you might have run off into the woods forever, Sweetheart. Took a lot of convincing to keep that one from traipsing off into the woods after you last night," he says, hooking his thumb towards me.

Her eyes dart towards mine and then away again.

"You missed a nice little display here yesterday too," he continues, pulling himself up on shaky legs. He is teetering back and forth and has a white knuckle grip on the banister. He is more drunk than I've seen him in a long time.

"Shut up, Haymitch," I grit out through my teeth.

"Oh, the boy pretty much lost his shit, didn't ya," he says as he staggers down the steps while patting my cheek a little too roughly. I push his hand away causing him to stumble and cackle to himself. "What do you think, Mockingjay?" Katniss spins on her heel towards him at the use of that name. She despises it. "Think you can stand to be around him without flying away into the trees again?" He flaps his arms at his sides imitating a bird.

"Fuck you, Haymitch," she seethes. Her shoulders are tense and her eyes are like molten silver.

He just cackles to himself some more as he makes his way to his own porch. "Such language. And, from a lady!" He calls, feigning shock before disappearing through his front door.

"I don't know who told him I was a lady," Katniss mutters.

I chuckle under my breath and she turns towards me scuffing her boot on the ground. "You can't do that again. You scared the hell out of me. I had no idea if you were ok or if you were hurt," I say keeping my eyes on her face as she stares at her boots.

"What happened to your hand?" She asks, finally raising her head to look me in the eyes.

I sigh heavily. "I cut it. It's not serious." I pull myself into a standing position and turn towards the front door, limping slightly. She notices.

"Peeta, what happened? Why are you limping?"

"More cuts. I…I got upset after you left." I turn back to look at her. Her eyes are glistening with unshed tears. I have to look away. Raking my fingers through my hair, I reach for the door knob. "I can grab my stuff. I never really unpacked it. I just wanted to wait here for you to make sure you made it back home."

"No, Peeta. I don't want…I mean…you don't have to leave."

"Katniss, I can't do this again." I meet her tear filled eyes while trying to blink back tears of my own.

"Peeta," she whispers, grabbing my hand.

I have to take a deep breath to steady myself. Her ashen face and remorseful eyes nearly break me. My chest tightens and my fingers twitch against her warm hand.

"I love you, Katniss. I've always loved you, but I don't know if I'm strong enough to be in love with someone who isn't in love with me. There is no one else for me. You are it. There is nothing I want more than to live the rest of my life with you. But, I can't force you to want that too. It's not fair to you. If I need to keep my distance, if I need to be just your friend, then I'm willing to be that for you. Always."

I wait for her to respond, but she just lowers her head and keeps her eyes on our joined hands. I take a shuddering breath and open the front door, letting go of her hand. My things are still stacked by the stairs where I left them two nights ago. Katniss softly latches the door closed behind her and stands pinned against it, watching me. I stand frozen between her and my things.

"Please don't leave, Peeta," she says. There's a pleading edge to her voice. "I'm sorry. I-," she gestures towards the upstairs bedroom, searching for the right words and then lets out a frustrated groan.

I feel myself deflate. My shoulders hunch forward. I close my eyes. I'm exhausted and I can feel myself losing the will to fight with her. All I want is to wrap my arms around her and lose myself in the warmth of her body and the smell of her skin and hair. I want for her to have not run away. I want too many things.

She steps towards me. Her fingertips gently brush the curls from my forehead before her hands cup my face. She leans her cheek against mine so that the light puffs of air leaving her mouth tickle my ear.

"Don't leave. I need you. Stay with me," she whispers softly.

My heart stutters when I hear her repeat the words she said to me on the beach during the Quarter Quell. She needs me. I wonder if she knows that I need her too. I need her like the oxygen I breathe. Does she only need me because there is no one else or has she needed me long before this? I see the pleading look still in her eye and I can feel the tremble in her hands.

I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her waist as she hugs my neck tightly. She smells of grass and pine. I pull back, kicking off my shoes and leading her to the living room couch. Wordlessly, I lower her down beside me on the plush cushions, tucking her head under my chin and holding her close to me. I feel her sharp intake of breath before she releases it with a strangled sob. She cries deeply into my bakery shirt, her hands balled up into fists in the material. My hands run soothingly up and down her back as my own tears fall silently on the cushion and in her hair. Eventually, her breathing evens out and the tension leaves her back. Her grip on my shirt lessens and I know that she has fallen asleep. I hold her a little tighter to me and let the rhythmic beating of her heart pull me under as well.


End file.
